Under a Black Sky
by CaitlynKamikaze
Summary: The Dragonborn has been destined to be a hero since her birth. But when she is placed suddenly in Middle-earth to be the hero of her destiny once more, what happens if she doesn't wish to be a hero any longer? Set after main Skyrim questline and AU where all dwarves live following BOFA. Hinted Smaug/OC toward the end.
1. Introduction

"Gandalf, will I ever return home?" the young woman asked. Her ebony armor twinkled in the dark embrace of the shadows tossed by the dancing flames in the fireplace, her arms crossed tightly against the raven emblem on her chest. Burning ember eyes glared up from under thick, long eyelashes at the wizard seated before her. She came to a little taller than his chin, tall for most men in Middle-earth. Pale skin glistened in the moonlight, long fingers tapping on her upper arm. Gandalf had only heard of eyes like hers in tales, ones he dared not repeat in present company. Raven hair tinged an unnatural shade of violet cascaded down her shoulders, tiny braids laying across the thick mane that ended just past her elbows.

"It is possible," he replied, "but not until you have completed your destiny in Middle-earth." He raised a knowing eyebrow, teething on the end of his pipe. She had come to him by chance, stumbling through a portal that he had been investigating. She had hissed words in an unknown, ancient language, her arrowhead inches from the bridge of his nose. He had finally convinced the young woman to accompany him to nearby Bree, where he slowly coaxed her into learning the common tongue. That had been well over a year before, and she constantly asked him about home. **_Keizaal_**, she called it.

His companion sighed. "**_Ol ulfah do tiid, Zu'u kent thaar tiidro fen._**" Her alto voice rumbled in her chest, the vibrations echoing through the space that separated them. "Very well. Has your Dwemer friend found his lucky number?"

"He has," Gandalf affirmed, ignoring her foreign common name for the Middle-earth Dwarves. "And I have found our fourteenth. You are to accompany us, as I feel you already know?" Her nod was enough confirmation, and he continued, "We must make him believe he needs you to complete this quest, not the other way around. It is imperative he goes forward with this." She nodded, and Gandalf smiled. "My dear, you are so close to home... I dare say I can almost taste the snow of Skyrim."

She turned her head, staring out of the inn's window. She had taken up residence in the upper rooms of the tavern whilst Gandalf had concocted his plan with the Dwarven king, and while she had been made to feel comfortable and at home here, she desired to return home to **_Keizaal_**. "Indeed," she agreed quietly.

"Anaïs, I promise you... once this quest is over, I believe you will be able to return to Skyrim."

Her eyes flitted to him, thin black eyebrows furrowing tightly. "Do you believe we will prevail?" Anaïs asked quietly. She ran her finger around the brim of her mug, empty of the ale she had finished an hour ago.

Gandalf studied her, carefully choosing his words. "I can only hope."

**Translations:**

_Ol ulfah do tiid, Zu'u kent thaar tiidro fen. / As a creature of time, I must obey time's will._

_Keizaal / Skyrim. _


	2. Chapter 1: An Unexpected Party

A/N: I do not own anything except my OC. All references to Tamriel and anything with the ES universe belongs to Bethesda, and all references, characters, and events in The Hobbit belong to Tolkien & Peter Jackson.

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><p>It had not been Bilbo Baggins' day. Anaïs had been waiting for Gandalf's Dwarven companions for approximately four hours outside the Hobbit hole and she had never been known for her patience. A few had come alone, the brothers named Dwalin and Balin arriving first yet separate. Fíli and Kíli had come together soon after Balin's appearance, the Hobbit's young face growing more and more flustered with each new arrival. She had almost laughed aloud at the large group falling over each other onto Bilbo's doorstep, the Hobbit almost red with frustration as he fixed his eyes upon the wizard who had barely paid her hiding place any attention. It was amazing that she could identify each dwarf after only hearing of them from Gandalf, but he had been quite descriptive and specific. She smirked. <em>It helps to know your mark,<em> she mused. Brynjolf had taught her well. She sat completely still in her hiding place while the sounds of merriment and laughter came from behind the closed door of the hobbit hole.

An hour later, the lean form of Thorin Oakenshield lumbered toward the circular green door. Anaïs recognized the heir of Erebor from the many descriptions Gandalf had given of him, his sharp ocean blue eyes searching the door for the mark she had watched the wizard make earlier. He raised a fist, pounding thrice upon the door. Soon after, the door opened to allow him entrance.

She had to admit, the dwarf was attractive... but she wasn't here to snatch a lover. She was here to slay a dragon. If circumstances had been different, she might have tried but she had a quest to complete. Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten before she exhaled and stood, striding toward the door. She tightened the Nightingale cowl around her face, obscuring her high cheekbones and pale golden skin. Silently, she stalked up Bilbo's pathway, catching the door with her palm as she made her entrance.

Just like Gandalf had planned.

As Bilbo went to slam the door on any more possible Dwarf guests, a pale hand shot out to catch the edge from the other side. Startled, Bilbo pushed harder on it as the force from the other side shoved it open. "You would think one was not welcome here," a feminine accented voice laughed from the opposite side as the door swung open and Bilbo stumbled back. A tall woman stood in the doorway, her ember eyes, merely pinpricks behind her cowl, catching on the dwarves gathered before her. Thirteen dwarves stood in the hallway with Gandalf and the hobbit, and she pretended not to recognize any of them. Regardless, she offered a brief smile. "I take it I am in the right place, Gandalf?"

The graying wizard returned her smile warmly and played along. "Of course, my dear Anaïs. Thorin, allow me to introduce you to the last member of our company. She was a little unexpected, but I believe you will find her to your liking," he replied, turning toward the aforementioned Dwarf.

Thorin's eyes trailed down her figure, studying the thinly muscled woman with disdain. Anaïs could read the disapproval in his eyes. "Ax or sword?" he asked shortly.

"Bow," she answered strongly, inclining her head toward the ebony bow on her back. Her voice rumbled dangerously in the tiny room, much more so than Gandalf's. "Among other strengths."

"And what might those be?" Thorin asked suspiciously, staring up at her from under his thick brows. He came only to her chest, but he was slightly intimidating nonetheless.

Gandalf interrupted, reaching for Thorin's shoulder. "Come, let us speak in the dining room," he said, pulling the Dwarf away from their newest visitor. Anaïs smiled appreciatively, following the Dwarves as they filed back the hallway. They did not need to know too much just yet. Behind them, Bilbo slowly shut the door, sighing heavily.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin asked expectantly, fingering his mug of ale. The Dwarves had all taken their seats at the long table, Thorin at the head to the right of Gandalf. He was chewing at a bowl of meaty broth, his eyes sweeping around the table to his brethren. Anaïs had taken a spot in the shadowy corner behind Bofur, content to simply watch. Bilbo stood opposite her, just over Gandalf's shoulder.

"Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms," Thorin replied, and his answer was met with exclamations of joy from the other dwarves.

Dwalin piped up from Gandalf's left, "And what did the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" His hardened exterior was lightened with a slight smirk, one of hope.

Thorin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "They will not come. They say that this quest is ours and ours alone," he answered among murmurs of discontent. Dwalin closed his eyes in frustration and disappointment as a young voice from the corner spoke curiously.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo asked.

Gandalf cleared his throat, turning his head to look at the hobbit. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light." Bilbo stepped into the hallway, grabbing an unlit candle and lighting it from one of the sconces on the wall in the hall. The Grey Wizard rummaged in his pockets, withdrawing his hand with a folded piece of parchment in it. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lays a single solitary peak..." he began, smoothing out was appeared to be a rumpled map. Anaïs, as well as all the dwarves, leaned in closer to have a better look.

Bilbo, having returned with the lit candle, leaned over Gandalf's shoulder. "The Lonely Mountain," he read, furrowing his brows in confusion. Anaïs could make out the peak, encircled by a creature drawn in red ink.

"Aye, Óin has read the portents and the portents say it is time," declared Glóin from the middle of the table.

Óin nodded from the opposite side. He set his hearing horn on the table, elaborating on his brother's statement. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold.'When the birds of yore return to Erebor... the reign of the beast will end.'"

Bilbo, who had stepped into his pantry while the dwarves discussed their quest, turned suddenly at the mention of the beast. "Uh... what beast?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Oh, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," Bofur answered, teething his pipe. "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks... Extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is." Bilbo interrupted the dwarf in irritation, intertwining his fingers.

"I'm not afraid, I'm up for it!" Ori shouted from down the table. He stood, smacking his hands on the tabletop. "I'll give him a taste of Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!" The others yelled their support and approval, the Dwarf nearest him jerking Ori back into his seat. Anaïs recognized him as Dori. She grinned in the shadows, shaking her head slightly. _They always think it's so easy to slay a dragon. If only they knew._

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us but we number just thirteen - oh, sorry miss, _fourteen_ - and not fourteen of the best nor brightest," warned Balin.

"Here, who are you calling dim?" shouted Nori from down the table amid the din of confused and irritated Dwarves.

Fíli spoke above the others, "We may be few in number but we're fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf!"

"And you forget, we have a Wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" shouted Kíli from his left.

The Wizard's eyes grew a little wider, and from where Anaïs stood, she could see his face flush. "Oh, well... no. I wouldn't say-" he stumbled over his words, holding up his pipe in protest.

"How many then?" asked Dori.

"What?"

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?"

Thorin studied Gandalf as the Wizard frowned underneath his beard. Little puffs of smoke began to seep from his lips as he coughed, choking on the pipe he had been sucking on for the past few minutes. Anaïs smirked from her corner, chuckling to herself as the dwarves begged for a number raucously. It was hard to hear over the din, but as the dwarves grew louder, Thorin stood suddenly from his chair, shouting in a language she had not heard before. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread, the dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing... wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours, or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?" The dwarves shouted in agreement, raising mugs of ale to his words.

Balin, ever the voice of reason, chimed above the din. "You forget, the Front Gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf replied, holding in his long fingers a thick, ornate key on a piece of string.

To his right, Thorin's mouth had dropped open in awe. "How came you by this?" he asked quietly, reaching for the key.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now." With his words, the room watched in awe-filled silence as Gandalf handed over the key to Thorin.

"If there is a key, there must be a door," Fíli mused.

Gandalf nodded, pointing to Erebor on the map with the tip of his pipe. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls."

"There's another way in..."

"Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gandalf argued with a sigh. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it but there are others in Middle-earth who can." The last part of his sentence was partially directed to Thorin with a knowing glance, who glared up at Gandalf with indignation. "The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage" - the wizard looked to Bilbo with these words - "but if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" exclaimed Óri, ever the bright one.

"Hmm, and a good one too. An expert, I'd imagine," stated Bilbo, pulling at his suspenders.

"And are you?" asked Glóin. All eyes went to Bilbo, who glanced behind him.

"Am I what?" he asked, feeling as if he had missed an essential part of the conversation, particularly the one where he was in fact a burglar.

"He said he's an expert!" exclaimed the deaf Óin to scattered chuckles.

"Me? No. No, no, no. I'm not a burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life!" Bilbo argued.

Balin nodded, pursing his lips. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material." The hobbit agreed audibly, shaking his head with vigor.

"Aye, the Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin mused, his eyes fixed accusingly on the hobbit before they went to Anaïs standing in the corner. His accusation of her went unsaid, but she met his menacing glare with an even stare, dropping her chin slightly. The dwarves around him raised their voices again, clamoring and arguing amongst themselves as to whether their additions were as good as they were claimed to be.

Gandalf stood, shouting above the others. "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is! Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of either of these two is all but unknown to him which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the last two members of this company and I have chosen Anaïs and Mr. Baggins. There are a lot more to them than appearances suggest... and they have a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including themselves." With a knowing look to both of the aforementioned companions, he looked to Thorin. "You must trust me on this."

"Very well," Thorin nodded. "We will do it your way."

From behind him, Bilbo sputtered out his discontent as Thorin asked Balin for the contract. "It's just the usual," the dwarf began, handing a thick folded piece of parchment to the hobbit. "Summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo squeaked softly in horror, turning as he opened the contract.

Balin pulled another contract out of his bag as he shifted in his chair to look at Anaïs. "Here's yours miss," he said as he handed it to her then lowered his voice. "Gandalf gave me a little notice on your part." She offered him a knowing smile behind her cowl as she opened it in the corner, glancing down the page. Gandalf had already disclosed the nature of their quest to her in private, so she was not in shock to see the length and all of the clauses the dwarves had added in to protect themselves. She could hear Bilbo muttering in the hallway, going over the lengthy legal document as she accepted the feather pen Balin offered her. Leaning over the table to sign the paper, she noticed Thorin leaning toward Gandalf.

"I cannot guarantee their safety," she heard him murmur. Gandalf's answer was clear, his meaning clearer. "Nor will I be responsible for their fate."

"Agreed." Even though those words had not been about her, Anaïs couldn't stop the pang of uncertainty that split her heart. Her ember eyes flitted up to Gandalf, a frown growing upon her lips. The gray eyes of the wizard connected with hers, and he offered a smile. She wondered how sincere it was as she signed her name and handed it to Balin. Part of her had expected the wizard's reply, but it still stung to see how little regard he had for her life.

"Incineration?" Bilbo enunciated from the hallway, poking his head back in.

"Aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," affirmed Bofur. Bilbo whimpered from the hallway as the dwarves turned his way. Anaïs glared at the offending dwarf. _If he ruins this for us..._

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked as he stuffed away Anaïs' contract.

"Huh? Yeah," Bilbo nodded, looking faint. Anaïs stepped from the corner, edging toward the hobbit with slight concern. He bent over, hands on his knees as he took deep breaths. "Feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace with wings," antagonized Bofur unwittingly. Anaïs could have slapped him then.

"Air," gulped Bilbo. "I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!" Bofur stood just beside Anaïs as he illustrated the 'poof' with a wave of his arms and pipe. She shot him a glance, frowning deeply.

Bilbo before them shifted on his feet, his face contorting with fear as he struggled to hold back the unstoppable. "Nope," he admitted his defeat, pitching forward as Anaïs dove to keep the hobbit's head from smacking the hard floor.

"Oh, very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf muttered as Anaïs gently lifted the unconscious hobbit into her arms.

"Where is best?" she asked, grunting a little with effort. The burglar was not exactly the lightest man in the world, and it was obvious his sedimentary lifestyle was not helping at all. Gandalf gestured down the hallway, stepping out of the dining room to lead her. They walked to the next door into a sitting room. Anaïs gently sat the man down in an armchair, crossing her arms against her chest. "Not exactly the best introduction, Gandalf."

"He will come around, my dear. How about you fix him some tea? I believe there is some in the kitchen," he suggested, pointing to the small kitchen in the next room. Anaïs nodded, heading that way.

A few moments later, she placed a cup of tea in front of a newly awakened Bilbo. Her cowl had slipped, revealing her pale golden features. He grasped the cup in his hands, thanking her profusely. She nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes connecting with his. She offered a brief smile, then stepped back as he studied her carefully. As she readjusted her cowl, Gandalf re-entered the room, asking the hobbit if he was fine.

"I'll be fine, just let me sit quietly for a moment," the hobbit stated.

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long," Gandalf argued. "Tell me, when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?" He circled the room, tilting his head as Anaïs did to avoid banging it off the ceiling. "I remember a young Hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves in the woods, who would stay out late, come home after dark trailing mud and twigs and fireflies." Anaïs, from where she stood, could see a few of the dwarves still lining the table in the adjoining room. "A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps," Gandalf sighed, "it's out there."

"I can't just go running off into the blue!" Bilbo argued. "I am a Baggins of Bag-end."

"You are also a Took," Gandalf replied as Bilbo rolled his eyes and sighed as he laid his head against the back of the armchair. "Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a real horse?" At Bilbo's nod, he continued. "Yes, well, he could. In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the Goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard, it knocked the Goblin king's head clean off and it sailed one hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus, the battle was won... and the game of golf invented at the same time." Anaïs chuckled at this, and she noticed Bilbo was smiling once more.

"I do believe you made that up," he said.

"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

Bilbo thought this over, and exhaled sharply. "Can you promise that I will come back?" Anaïs looked at Gandalf as he asked this question, knowing the answer.

"No," answered the Wizard. "And if you do, you'll not be the same."

"That's what I thought."

Anaïs could not help but feel as if she had lived this conversation before. Years before, when a certain court wizard sent her on her own quest to discover the whereabouts of a certain Dragonstone, he had stated something similar when she had asked if she would return home to Whiterun. Oh, the stories she could tell now of her adventures across Skyrim and Tamriel. In time, maybe she could share them with the company.

"Sorry, Gandalf, but I can't sign this." Bilbo's words cut through her thoughts quicker than a blade as she returned to the present. "You've got the wrong Hobbit." He stood as he spoke, and when he had finished, he turned and left the room.

Gandalf looked over his shoulder at her, tossing Anaïs a knowing glance. She nodded. "He will come around," she stated. She followed the Hobbit through the hallway, following him through the hallway past a few of their dwarf companions. "Master Baggins," she called, jerking her cowl past her lips.

"I won't sign it, I tell you. Leave me alone!" Bilbo stated indignantly.

"I'm not here to convince you."

"Then why bother following me?" he asked, turning to face her. He had stopped outside of his bedroom, blue eyes accusing her as he stared up at her. She towered over him, almost as much as Gandalf.

"I know how you feel. I understand the fear… the uncertainty of whether you'll come home."

"What do you know? You're a wanderer."

"You assume much about someone you've never met, Master Baggins," she replied dryly. "Yes, I wander both here and in my homeland. But I know a home when I see one, and I know how hard it must be to leave it. I left my homeland to come here... I still do not know why, but I intend to find out. I have never been to this place before last year, and I've been here ever since. I know what it is to be alone and I know what it is to leave home. Do not tell me I don't know."

Bilbo pursed his lips, pulling at his suspender straps. He looked back into the bedroom, glancing at the dying embers of the fire he had lit that morning. Anaïs could not help but notice the stress behind his actions, her heart aching slightly. How hard it had been to accept she had no longer been able to return home as easily as she had left, and she knew that when she would finally go back to Skyrim, she would be changed. Bilbo did not look much like a man who accepted change easily, so how hard would his return be after this quest was over?

"A few years ago, I came to Skyrim - my home - without a clue of who I was. I knew the common language, I understood their religions and knew of their gods, so I had to be one of them... so how could I not know who I was?" She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms against her chest as the lie slipped effortlessly off her tongue. Her ebony armor hugged her skin, warming her as she spoke softly, only for the two of them to hear. "Within a year, I had earned a name for myself as one of the greatest thieves in the province. I was blessed by the Lucky Lady herself, Nocturnal."

"Nocturnal?" Bilbo asked, his voice peaked with curiosity. Anaïs couldn't help but to smile with relief. At least he was listening to her story with some interest.

"Nocturnal is one of the Daedra, the gods who can interact with any mortal on Nirn. The Aedra are their counterparts, the Divines. They're more likely to directly speak to their priests than their worshippers, so we don't feel as close to them without a strong connection. Myself, I am closer to Akatosh than the others. He is the God of Time and the Father of Dragons."

Bilbo squeaked at the mention of dragons. "You have dragons in your homeland? Are they... the same?" he asked.

Anaïs chuckled. "In a way, yes. I have yet to see a drake from this land, but I imagine they're not too dissimilar." She took a deep breath, then continued her story. "As I was saying, after I had gained a name for myself, I was captured and taken to Helgen to be put to death alongside traitors in the civil war that was raging over the province. When my head was on the chopping block, a large black dragon swooped down and _shouted_ at us. He destroyed the town, and only a handful of us escaped. Because I had survived a dragon attack, the Jarl of the nearest city decided he would assign me to a small troop of soldiers that were investigating a recent attack on his city's western watchtower. While we were there, another dragon began to attack. We fought long and hard and we finally felled the beast." She paused, glancing behind her in the hallway. "After that, I spent the rest of the next two years slaying dragons. Gandalf somehow heard of my feats and convinced me to come here to aid Thorin on his quest." Anaïs felt her heart pound at the lie that she and Gandalf had come up with. It would be too risky for any of their companions to know exactly _how_ she had slayed the dragons of Skyrim.

"You were a thief?" Bilbo asked. Amazing how he seemed to have circled back _after _the entire dragon conversation.

"Yes, Master Baggins."

"Then why do they need me as a burglar?" His honest question hit her broadside. Why did they need a Hobbit with no experience to raid a dragon's hoard? Was she not good enough?

Shaking her head, Anaïs replied, "I do not know that, Master Baggins. I believe that is a question you will need to take up with Thorin and Gandalf." At his nod, she continued. "Good... now, will you be joining us tomorrow? I'm sure I could give you a few lessons in how to be a burglar if you come with us."

The Hobbit sighed as she released his mouth from her hand. "Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll be quite content to remain here. Besides, you're the expert they need," he replied, turning toward the bed.

Anaïs took that as her dismissal and turned to leave. She hesitated in the doorway, her head turned over her shoulder to the Hobbit. "As far as I'm concerned, Bilbo... you would have made an excellent burglar. Do not let Thorin's rough demeanor and incredibly high standards dissuade you from this quest. I shall see you when our paths cross again." She stepped out the doorway, headed for the sitting area where the dwarves had gathered. The humming of deep, bass voices filled the room, a low rumble moving in harmony to a tune they knew well.

"_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away _

_Ere break of day to find our long-forgotten gold,_

_The pines were roaring on the height_

_The winds were moaning in the night_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread_

_The trees like torches blazed with light." _

Anaïs, as well as Gandalf, had sat in silence, the dwarves singing of their destiny with such longing that it pulled at her heartstrings. How many times had she heard the song of the Dragonborn sung with such reverence and Nord bravado, her own tale spelled out in song for all of Tamriel to hear? This was their tale, their legacy, and their quest. No matter what Gandalf said, she was not the focus, nor was it her impending defeat of Smaug. This was a reclamation quest for the Dwarves, lost not only in her world, but in theirs as well. She would see it through to the very end, dragon or no dragon.

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><p>AN: Please review! I'm posting this earlier than planned because I wanted to see what type of feedback I would get. I already have six chapters already written; they just need edited for detail and I can post. I will not post them however if I don't get at least one review giving me some kind of feedback. Thanks guys!


	3. Chapter 2: The Start of a Journey

A/N: I see you silent lurkers favoriting this story. *sly spongebob face* So I was working on a waaaay later chapter & I finished it so I thought I would reward myself by posting another chapter. I'm hoping you guys are liking this story, 'cause I know I am (at least by chapter 5 :P). Anyway, enjoy!

As always, I own only Anaïs and her storyline. I do not own anything Elder Scrolls or Hobbit related, etc.

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><p>The morning dawned earlier than expected, Anaïs rising from her hard sleeping place on the floor. Bilbo had not reappeared that night, so Gandalf had rummaged through a few closets and trunks until he found some spare blankets that the Dwarves and the two humans could share. Anaïs had slept beside the brothers Fíli and Kíli, both having elbowed her with suggestive jokes as soon as Gandalf assigned them. Despite their raucous jokes and stubborn exteriors, Anaïs had found the boys tolerable and had settled into the armchair between them. They had insisted she remain in the middle so she could have more warmth, but their sly smiles suggested otherwise. She had kept her armor on, letting her figure fall into shadow once the last of the candles died away.<p>

She had awoken to the sounds of dwarves munching on the very last of Bilbo's provisions and armor being buckled into place. Rising from her place on the floor, Anaïs reached for her bow and quiver beside the fireplace. Swinging it onto her back atop her quiver, she counted the three daggers strapped to her leg, her back, and her waist to be sure they were still in place. From the hallway, she could hear the soft whispers of the dwarves as they began to exit the hobbit hole.

Anaïs looked over her shoulder to the doorway where she and Bilbo had had their conversation the night before. If he was not awake yet, he would not be joining them. His contract lay discarded on a table in the hallway near the door, where the others had gathered. The gesture silently showed that the offer was still open and she hoped he would take it. Stepping out of the sitting area, she moved toward the doorway, examining the house one last time. Everything had been cleaned up and left the way they had found it. If anything, maybe the Hobbit would believe he had a very stressful dream and would remember nothing of their troupe. Grimacing, Anaïs sighed. Hopefully he would make the best choice.

Once outside, she strode over to the wizard, who gripped the reins of two steeds. His own chestnut steed nuzzled at his palm, sniffing for more sugar which the wizard had no doubt been spoiling him with. Anaïs offered Gandalf a smile, reaching for her own horse's reins. The black stallion had been with her for a long time, given to her by an old friend with questionable connections. It had been his horse for years before that, but despite the horse's growing age, he still ran and acted like a rowdy yearling. Vlad had called him Shadowmere, so the name had stuck.

Shadowmere was already saddled, saving her time as the others mounted up. As she rose into the saddle, Anaïs gave the hobbit's forest green front door one last backward glance. **_Vonok, dii fahdon. _**_Farewell, my friend. _Urging her horse forward, she followed Gandalf as the company rode out of Hobbit-town.

A few miles away, she had slowed her pace to ride alongside Kíli. His pony sniffed at Shadowmere, nickering a little as the taller steed nipped playfully at the pony's muzzle. Anaïs chuckled from atop Shadow, resting easily in the saddle. The Hobbit lingered on her mind, and her ears searched for any sound of approach. To her left, Kíli leaned in toward her. "So where are you from, mysterious one?" he asked, raising his thick eyebrows in curiosity.

"A land far from here," she responded. "One I doubt you have ever been to or possibly heard of."

He chuckled at her response. "Is that so? Why don't you try me?" Kíli replied.

"If you insist, Master Kíli. I come from a land far to the north, where the fire drakes originate. I made a living slaying them for my kin," she lied, biting her cheek to keep from spilling the truth. Back home, it had been easy to simply state that she was the Dragonborn of old, a dragon in all but body. But here, Gandalf had warned her against declaring her blood status, especially around the Dwarves.

"Impressive. I took you to be more of the housewife type," Kíli said with a wink. "Your armor, it isn't of any make I've seen around here. Is it from home?"

Anaïs smiled. The armor of the Nightingale had been one she had earned and had kept from her former life as Guildmaster of the Thieves' Guild. "It is," she answered. "I feel as if it were made just for me, as I've never seen any of its like in my land either." As she directed another smile toward the brunette twin, a yell echoed out through the trees.

"WAIT!"

Anaïs turned in her saddle, reining Shadowmere in. Bilbo was trotting toward them, travel pack slung over his shoulders and waving the contract high in the air. The dwarves paused, ponies neighing in protest as they all faced the approaching hobbit. Bilbo slowed to a walk just beside Shadow, grinning up at her. "I signed it!" he proclaimed, holding it high as proof. Anaïs pointed to Balin, and the hobbit strode toward the elder dwarf.

Balin took the contract from Bilbo's hands and pulled out a tiny pocket glass. After examining the document, he smiled warmly. "Everything appears to be in order," he stated loudly, folding up the contract and tucking it away. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield."

The other dwarves laughed and gave short cheers, but at the head of their group, Thorin seemed to roll his eyes. "Give him a pony," he ordered, turning his own back around.

"Nonono, that won't be necessary," protested Bilbo. Fíli trotted his pony up on the right beside his brother's, leading a bay pony between them. Anaïs couldn't help but grin as they moved toward Bilbo, who continued to protest from the ground. "I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know? Even got as far as Frogmorton once... Aah!" He yelped as the brothers leaned over and grabbed him by the elbows, lifting him up on the pony they were leading. Anaïs chuckled, matching their pace.

"Name her, Master Baggins, and you'll grow accustomed to her," she offered, grinning at the bewildered Hobbit. The pony beneath him whinnied spiritedly and Shadowmere nickered in reply. If only they could hear the conversations of their steeds.

Bilbo got a little ahead of them, Gandalf having floated back in the stream of dwarves and ponies. His horse plodded along as he and Bilbo began a conversation.

"Come on, Nori, pay up!" called Óin from behind them. He sped up a little as Nori tossed a tiny coin bag over his shoulder. Laughing as he caught it, Anaïs raised an eyebrow.

Kíli caught her expression and laughed. "You must not have caught our bet earlier," he explained. "We bet on whether or not the Hobbit would join us." Anaïs nodded knowingly, silently thankful she hadn't bet on her companion's fate. Kíli himself, as well as his brother, both caught tiny coin pouches and tucked them away.

Ahead of them, Bilbo held up a hand. "Stop! We have to go back!"

"Whatever is the matter, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked as the company halted once more for the hobbit.

"I forgot my handkerchief," came the frantic reply.

"Here," called Bofur, tearing a strip from his shirt. "Use this." He tossed the dirty fabric to Bilbo, who caught it with disgust. The others laughed, urging their horses back into their lazy walk.

"You'll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you. The world is ahead." Gandalf's lecture reached her ears, hauntingly familiar.

Gandalf had given her a speech quite similar many weeks ago in a small tavern in Bree. He had told her that the snows and peaks of Skyrim were far behind her and that the world of Middle-earth lay before her. She gave the back of the wizard's head a knowing glare and turned to Kíli, who had coughed at her side.

"What are the dwarves like where you're from?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye. "Are they tall, dashing, and handsome?"

"They're extinct," came the short reply. A sideways glance and a grin followed, breaking the dark silence. "They just... disappeared in the middle of an underground war one day and were never seen again. They say that the dwemer of Morrowind in Red Mountain caused it by trying to achieve divine status as gods. Whether they failed or not is unknown. The last dwarf alive died years after that from an incurable disease."

Kíli processed the information, his dark brows furrowing. "Dwemer?"

"We call the Dwarves 'Dwemer'. I forget exactly where it comes from, but they were the underground-dwellers of the elven races," she explained.

"So... what country are you from exactly? You've named two... Morrowind and Kyrim."

"Close. Morrowind and _S_kyrim. I'm from Skyrim," she replied. Anaïs could read the confusion on the dwarf's pale face, and laughed. "Do you want me to explain further?"

At his nod, she continued. "There are nine provinces in Tamriel, a continent on Nirn. There's Skyrim, Morrowind, Elsweyr, High Rock, Hammerfell, Summerset Isle, Cyrodiil, Black Marsh, and Valenwood. From each province hails a different race, either Men or Mer. The Mer are the elves: Bosmer or Wood Elves from Valenwood; Altmer or High Elves from the Summerset Isle; Argonians from Black Marsh; Khajiit from Elsweyr; and the Dunmer or Dark Elves from Morrowind. The men are humans: Skyrim has the Nords, Hammerfell the Redguards, High Rock the Bretons, and Cyrodiil the Imperials. Each province has its own history, and each province has its hero. Morrowind has the Nerevarine, Cyrodiil has the Champion of Cyrodiil, and Skyrim has the Dragonborn." She grimaced at the mention of her own title, but continued on anyway. "I don't know the other lands' heroes, or I would tell you."

"Are the elves in your lands as ruthless as ours?" Kíli asked.

Anaïs hesitated. "The elves as a whole are not exactly harmless, but they aren't trying to commit genocide. However, a faction called the Aldmeri Dominion from the Summerset Isle believes in total elven supremecy and domination of all Men. They have threatened the way of life of the Nords in Skyrim, and when I left home, they were still fighting on the side of the Imperial Legion from Cyrodiil who claims Skyrim is a part of the Empire that rules most of Tamriel. Skyrim wants, or at least a few of her 'sons and daughters', as they call themselves, to be a free nation, especially if the Aldmeri Dominion wants to control their religion." She shrugged her shoulders, glancing to the dwarf beside her. He looked shell-shocked and overloaded with information.

"So these elves are trying to tell humans how to worship?" he asked.

"More like _who _to worship. The Nords had a warrior turned emperor many eras ago who once united all of Tamriel and had the title of Dragonborn. At his death, the Aedra - our divine gods - gave him a place among them and he became the Ninth Divine. The Dominion did not like a man ascending into divinity where they believed they as Elves should be, so they attacked the Empire for allowing such a profane practice. When the Blades, the Emperor's former elite guard, were all beheaded by the Thalmor, save a few agents who still are in hiding today, the Emperor had no choice but to sign the agreement. Some Nords didn't like it at all and rose up against the Empire in a civil war. When I left, no one was winning and the death toll was rising." She dropped her gaze. "I hope they have gained some sense in the last year."

Kíli placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. Anaïs looked to him and grinned in appreciation. "Enough about my home. I've gotten too homesick to keep talking about it," she said. "Tell me about Erebor."

The company had come to rest that night in a shallow cave on a cliff face, and Bombur had set right to cooking their dinner. Anaïs had accepted her bowl of meaty broth and had stepped to the cliff's edge, sitting down with her feet dangling over the edge. Anaïs sat that way as the sun went down, the moon rising over the far-off mountain ridges. The sight of Middle-earth's lone moon caused a shiver of loneliness to run down her spine. Masser and Secunda had always watched over her travels by night and even during the day back home, but here there was only one moon. She removed her gauntlets and sat eating her cooled broth quietly when a shadow loomed over her. Gripping her spoon tightly, she turned her head quickly to see the intruder.

Gandalf chuckled as he lowered himself onto the rock face beside her. "Jumpy, are we?" he asked, placing his pipe between his teeth.

"Force of habit," Anaïs grumbled as she spooned another sip of stew into her mouth. "It bothers me that I didn't hear you coming up behind me. If I couldn't hear an ally, how could I hear an enemy trying to be silent?"

"You did not hear me because I did not want you to hear me," Gandalf answered with another wry chuckle. "You belittle yourself too much, my dear. As they say, you need to lighten up."

The young woman growled a little, but the corners of her lips tugged upward as she took another slurp. Behind them, the dwarves began to settle down for the night. Bombur, as usual, was the first to doze off, sucking in a cluster of moths with each snore. Anaïs stood, placing her empty bowl among the others. In her absence, Gandalf moved off to the edge of the shallow overhang, leaning against the rock wall. She made her way to his side, standing to his right. "Do you think I've said too much?" she murmured quietly, glancing to the dwarves around them.

"About your land? My dear, I hadn't even heard of Skyrim before you came here. I doubt any of these men have heard of your deeds a universe away. However, keeping certain details to yourself may be beneficial," Gandalf replied, sucking on his pipe and exhaling pungent clouds from his nostrils.

Anaïs nodded slowly. "Perhaps it is best, but won't they mistrust me if I keep certain things from them, especially my soul's status?"

"It may be so. They will just have to find a way to overlook it if they want this dragon taken care of," the wizard drawled slowly, dull blue eyes cutting to her. Impatience was shining through his usually calm facade, and she knew what that meant by now. _Just do as I say and don't complain._ The way he acted toward her reminded her almost of Mercer, and she was tempted to watch Gandalf for any signs of betrayal. Every time the thought came to mind, she dismissed it just as quickly. Even if he had explicitly told her that the adventure had been his idea all along, he couldn't have some sort of dastardly plan like her predecessor had. Still, Anaïs shot him a glare.

"Fine," she agreed. Beside them, Bilbo shot awake, glaring in the general direction of the offensive Dwarf. He stretched, then stepped away toward the ponies. Anaïs studied him as he spoke to his pony, looked around, and then quickly gave something to her. She heard him addressed his horse as 'Myrtle' and her faint smile grew. He had followed her advice. Watching Myrtle devour the treat Bilbo had given her, she chuckled to herself. She used to give treats to Shadowmere, but then he had gotten quite fat. She gave the horse a glance, his woeful eyes looking back at her as he begged silently. "**_Nid vahraan fah hi, paag gein_**," Anaïs murmured, giving the horse a pointed look. He nickered and shook his head at her, but she had lost interest in the horse for something far more foreboding. The shriek of Orcs below them echoed through the valley, Bilbo's head twisting quickly around.

"What was that?" he whispered frantically, pointing toward the valley.

"Orcs," Kíli replied from his place in the shallow overhang.

Bilbo scurried across the open area, avoiding sleeping dwarves as he made his way over to the brothers, both of whom were awake. "Orcs?" he asked, panic starting to rise in his voice. Beside the brothers, Thorin jerked awake.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The low-lands are crawling with them," said Fíli.

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep," Kíli added. "Quick and quiet, no screams... just lots of blood." The last part of his statement was whispered dramatically, and Anaïs shot a warning glare to the younger brother, but he didn't seem to catch it. The Orcs of Skyrim were not as harmful or hated as the Orcs of Middle-earth, but she was no longer in Skyrim. If the Orcs here were throat-cutters and prone to senseless violence...

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of Thorin's irritated voice. "You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"

The brothers looked as if they had been caught stealing sweet rolls from a baby. "We didn't mean anything by it," mumbled Kíli.

"No, you didn't," Thorin spat as he stalked to the cliff's edge. "You know nothing of the world." He stormed by Anaïs and Gandalf, clasping his fists behind his back. Balin stepped out of the shadows, his words directed to Kíli.

"Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria," he began, leaning against the wall beside Fíli. Anaïs stood, stepping out from her place beside Gandalf to hear Balin's tale a little better.

"But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the king. Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed... we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him." Balin looked to Thorin, who stood by the rocks where Anaïs had been sitting during supper. Her eyes trailed to the King, who stared out over the valley, half-listening to the tale Balin was recounting.

"A young Dwarf prince facing down the pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back, and our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, 'there is one who I could follow... there is one I could call king'."

As he told his story, the other dwarves had arisen, drawn into Balin's tale. As his recollection came to an end, they had all turned to look at Thorin, who finally turned back to them. Anaïs could not help but feel awe in her dovah soul at the feats this dwarf had overcome to reclaim his home, let alone to avenge his grandfather's death. Thorin stepped back through the center of all the dwarves, striding back to his resting place.

"And the pale Orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo asked from his seat on the ground.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago," Thorin growled as he passed the hobbit.

Balin and Gandalf exchanged knowing looks, and Anaïs couldn't stop the shiver that went down her spine. _Do they know something the rest do not? _She wondered, glancing back and forth between the two. Gandalf turned to her, placing a smile upon his face.

"Sleep, my dear," he said. "You'll need it for the long ride tomorrow."

Anaïs nodded slowly, taking a seat against the rock wall. Within moments, she was dozing. That night, she dreamed of pale Orcs and dwarven battles, but as the dream came to a peak, a large black shadow roared from the sky. Even her dreams were not safe from the Destroyer.

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><p>Translations:<p>

**_Nid vahraan fah hi, paag gein = No treats for you, fat one._**


	4. Chapter 3: Trolls & Orcs

A/N: You know the usual. I only own Anaïs and her storyline & anything Hobbit or Elder Scrolls related belongs to their respective owners.

* * *

><p>The next morning, the road seemed as unwelcoming as it could possibly be. The angry clouds above seemed to open their roaring maws to pour down unforgiving rain. Anaïs shot an angry glare to the heavens, cursing her inability - or rather, Gandalf forbidding her use of the <em>thu'um<em> - to shout away the rain clouds. Ahead of her, a dwarf echoed her thoughts toward Gandalf, asking him to take care of their unsavory conditions.

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done," the wizard shouted over his shoulder grumpily. He glared at the sky as best as he could between fat raindrops and added, "If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another Wizard."

Anaïs grinned to herself, ember eyes studying the form of the Wizard only two horses ahead of her. Only Thorin separated herself and the one who had forbidden her from revealing her nature... but if they had not noticed her eyes, who was to say that they knew what shouting was? She tipped her head back, feeling the power grow in her chest as Gandalf enlightened Bilbo on the other four wizards.

"**_LOK VAH KOOR!_**" An almost tangible sound wave crashed through the air, rippling as it spread in the sky above them. Immediately, the rain that had bothered them since they had left the mountainside ceased. Anaïs smiled, admiring her handiwork, but dropped her gaze to meet a pair of steely blue eyes.

"What magic was that?" demanded Thorin, his pony standing in the path of hers. His hand opposite her gripped his sword tightly, glaring menacingly at the young woman.

A thin black eyebrow raised. "If you must know, it was very _loud_ magic," Anaïs answered dryly, "from my homeland."

"I've never heard of such a thing," her leader replied with suspicion.

"It did the job, did it not?" she snapped back, reining in Shadowmere. She towered easily over the dwarf, her pale, angered visage glaring down at him. For a moment, she almost forgot who she was speaking to - the heir to Erebor and the leader of the company - but within a few seconds, she shook her head. "If you wish me to never repeat such magic, then tell me."

Thorin regarded her with darkened eyes. "We shall see. Move on," he directed, gesturing forward as he turned his pony around and continued on the path. From in front of him, Gandalf shot her a look. She already knew what that meant. _We'll discuss this later, young lady. _Anaïs ducked her head under her hood, rolling her eyes when she was sure the wizard wasn't watching.

For the rest of the day, they traveled on, stopping only occasionally for a meal or a relief break. Closer to dusk, they approached the ruin of an old house, Thorin delegating the area as a place to rest for the night. Gandalf leapt from his horse, trodding through the cleared wreckage of the former abode.

"Fíli, Kíli, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them," Thorin called out, swinging off of his horse. Anaïs followed suit, leading Shadowmere alongside the others. She grinned at the two dwarves, taking the Minty's reins from Kíli.

"Shadowmere prefers my hand to any other. He's fickle like that," she explained as she led her horse to the ruined lean-to stable a little farther into the treeline. Dropping his reins as well as Minty's to the ground, she patted his muzzle. Behind her, Kíli let go of Myrtle and Lily.

"So where are you from again?" he asked curiously, crossing his arms against his chest. "You've been rather quiet about it."

Anaïs sighed. Gandalf had explained that the others would not know of her homeland, for it was not in any book in Middle-earth. She looked over her shoulder to him, ember eyes assessing his strong figure. Biting the inside of her lip, she answered, "The land I am from is called Skyrim. It is part of Tamriel, the biggest land mass on Nirn." Kíli's blank expression caused her to chuckle and she turned to him, leaning against Shadowmere's strong stomach. "You've never heard of it?"

"No. Uncle's never mentioned it before," answered Fíli, who had been eavesdropping on their conversation. He slid over, leaning on a partially collapsed rock wall. "Where exactly is it?"

Anaïs hesitated. "In comparison to here? I have no idea, Master Fíli."

"Very intelligent she is," muttered Fíli.

"Hey!" she yelled, swatting at him with her hand as she turned back to Shadowmere. Despite her harsh tone, she smiled at the younger man and shook her head.

"So what exactly did you do in Skyrim?"

Anaïs froze, trying to remember the lie Gandalf had told her. She wasn't supposed to say anything about her former life as the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, for it could put the dwarves off of the idea of Bilbo being their burglar. _Why in the name of Nocturnal does that blasted wizard want that hobbit on this journey so badly?_ She turned to her companions, nibbling on the inside of her cheek. "Well, it's kind of a long story..."

"We have time!" piped the brothers. They settled down on the rock wall as she leaned once more against her mount.

"Alright..." she consented, sighing deeply as she gathered her thoughts. What would it hurt to tell two of her companions a little about herself? Gandalf had said nothing about making herself comfortable around them. "I did a little bit of everything to be honest. I've been a sellsword, a thief, and I've done my fair share of battle with dragons." Shrugging, she crossed her arms again. "Not much to tell."

"Come on, you have to have a better story than that," whined Kíli.

"Oh, fine. One story." She cleared her throat. "When I was in a town called Riften, I met a man who seemed nice enough. He offered me a job as long as I could pass a simple test. Little did I know that this easy test was to steal a ring from one merchant and plant it on another. When I completed it successfully, he revealed to me that someone paid for that merchant to be framed for theft and told me that he was a part of the Thieves' Guild, a notoriously famous group of thieves and burglars from over the years. Recently though, they had been having a streak of horrid luck and he was recruiting me for a place in their ranks."

"Did you join them?" asked Fíli.

"I did what any sensible woman new to Skyrim would do: I went to their meeting place in the sewers of the town where they had built a tavern and joined up. Within weeks, I was running menial jobs for them. One day, their Guildmaster approached me and told me he had a job for me. There was a mark who stopped paying his dues to the Guild and he wanted me to go in and see what was going on. The mark was an elf named Aringoth who sold honey to make mead. He cut off a big partner of the Thieves' Guild named Maven Black-Briar, and she wanted him to pay. He told me to burn three bee hives to harm his profit just enough for him to feel the pressure and he wanted me to clear out the elf's safe.

"When I got there, apparently Aringoth had been busy. He had sent back all of the town guards he had hired to watch his bee hives and had hired mercenaries to protect his estate. I had been informed by one of my sneakier guildmates that there was an entrance to the house's basement through one of the nearby sewers. After I carefully lit three bee hives, I had to sprint to the sewer tunnels. Unfortunately, I hadn't been trained enough by my guildmates that I could sneak away undetected. One of the mercenaries saw me, and raised the alarm. I barely made it to the sewer gate before three of them caught up to me. I took my daggers, cut the throat of the first and bashed in the second's jaw. The third was able to get a few hits on me before he ended like the first.

After dealing with them, I snuck through the sewers into the basement of the house. Luckily, I had come across the room with the safe and it wasn't guarded. I picked the lock and all that was inside was a bag of coins and the deed to Goldenglow Estate. Aringoth had sold the estate to an unknown buyer and for a pretty sum." Anaïs' eyes twinkled at the memory of her first big job. If she had known then what she knew now, she would have done things a little differently following Goldenglow. She looked to the boys across from her, their eyes twinkling with mischief.

"So you were a thief in your land," Kíli said with a smile.

"We have two burglars!" cried Fíli before he paused, confused. "Then why do we have the hobbit if we have you?"

"Gandalf brought me along not to sneak into the dragon's lair, but to kill him when the time comes. I've battled enough dragons in my life to know how to kill Smaug - and quickly," Anaïs replied lamely.

"Tell us about the dragons!" the brothers said, almost in unison.

Anaïs laughed as she nodded. "Alright," she agreed. She launched into full story-telling mode, feeling herself warm up to the young dwarves. She told them of her battle with Mirmulnir, and as the sky grew dark and she finished her story, the boys excused themselves to count the ponies. As they left, chattering over the story she had just told, Bilbo strolled up with two bowls of stew.

"Sorry Anaïs, I didn't know you were out here," he apologized sheepishly as he looked around. "Where are Fíli and Kíli?"

"They're counting the ponies. They should be back in just a minute," she answered, taking one of the bowls from Bilbo. As he stared at her wide-eyed, she took a sip from the side of the bowl. She gave him a sly smile and murmured, "What they don't know won't kill them, eh Master Baggins?" Anaïs handed back the bowl and gestured onward as she started off in the direction the boys had left.

Bilbo trotted along behind her, and as they turned a corner, they found themselves greeted with the sight of Fíli and Kíli standing stock still and staring at the small enclosure of horses. Bilbo strode forward, handing the two dwarves their bowls, but neither took them from him. "What's the matter?" he asked, looking from Kíli to Fíli and back again.

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies," said Kili.

"Only we've encountered a slight problem," Fili said.

"We had sixteen..."

"Now there's fourteen," finished Fíli with a grimace. He and Kili moved quickly, weaving among the ponies with frantic speed.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing," Kili called out from the opposite side of the fractured enclosure. Bilbo trotted up alongside him, Anaïs chuckling as he continued to balance the bowls perfectly.

"Well, that's not good," Bilbo laughed hesitantly. "And that is not good at all. Shouldn't we tell Thorin?" He held out the bowls again as Anaïs drew up to his side, studying the brothers. Her eyes swept from the boys to where they had stopped. Before them, a large oak tree had been uprooted by something... rather large. Anaïs stepped forward, a hand reaching out to touch the bark of the tree.

"Uh, no. Let's not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it," Fili answered carefully from the opposite side of the trunk. He looked back at Bilbo with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Well, uh... Look, something big uprooted these trees," Bilbo observed hesitantly, sputtering his way through an excuse.

"That was our thinking," piped Kili from his spot a few feet back from the tree.

Anaïs glared up at the hobbit as he stuttered, "It's something very big and p-possibly quite dangerous..." Her attention was caught by the clamor of heavy footfalls off in the near distance, and she jerked her head in that direction almost at the same time as Fili.

"Hey," he whispered, "there's a light!" He darted across another fallen trunk and crouched behind it for cover. All three of his companions followed suit, Bilbo still balancing the bowls. Anaïs took one from him and placed it on the ground beside them, shooting the hobbit a knowing scowl before turning her attention back to the scene before them.

Not much could be seen through the trees save a faint, glowing orange light, one Anaïs knew to be from a fire. Grunts and raucous laughter floated on the slight breeze toward them, accompanied by a raw stench that she couldn't place.

Bilbo asked the question that was on her mind. "What is it?" he whispered to Fili, grasping the trunk tightly.

"Trolls," hissed Kili as he leapt over the fallen trunk. Anaïs placed the bowl beside her on the trunk as she vaulted over after the dwarf, followed by Fili and Bilbo. Tearing through foliage and hanging branches, the four sprinted as fast as they could without being heard toward a pair of gnarled trees joined at the roots. Bilbo caught up to them a few seconds later, juggling two still-full bowls of stew. Anaïs shot the hobbit another scowl, choosing to remain silent. Did he really need to carry them this far? Just as the hobbit ducked down beside them, a mountainous figure lumbered past, carrying a frantically neighing pony under each arm.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" Bilbo hissed, staring after what Anaïs guessed was one of the trolls. "I think they're going to eat them. We have to do something!"

All three of his companions glanced up at him, and only two nodded. "Yes, you should," said Kili, followed by his brother's encouraging nod. Anaïs only stared at the two, remaining silent. Kili pushed Bilbo forward through a break in the roots, explaining, "Mountain Trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small, they'll never see you. It's perfectly safe. We'll be behind you!"

Bilbo wagged a finger at the brunette dwarf, interjecting his speech with his disapproval. "No, no no no no," he vehemently disagreed, shaking his head furiously.

"If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl," Fili instructed as he pushed Bilbo across the roots.

"Twice like a barn owl. No, twice like a brown - Once like a- Like a- Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bilbo turned to look at the three, but only Anaïs remained.

Anaïs placed a hand on his back, having stepped around the trunk to do so. She leaned down, her lips by the hobbit's ear. "I shall be behind you, unlike the dwarf cowards," she whispered with a smile. Her ember eyes twinkled, shining like the fire ahead of them. Bilbo looked at her with a hint of gratitude, but he hesitated at her use of the term 'coward'. Anaïs chuckled behind him, pushing him forward. "It was a joke, Master Baggins. Now move forward so I can teach you to be a burglar."

They crept foward, Anaïs' hand moving from his back to his shoulder as she guided his stance into a crouching crawl. She drew a dagger from her side, leaning forward to whisper in his ear, "Stay low, move quickly, and stick to the shadows as much as possible. I shall be in the bushes awaiting their return. If you need help, follow Fili's instructions. Remember, twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl." She lifted her hood and cowl, which had been down most of their journey, and almost seemed to melt into the shadows. She could hear Bilbo whimper, and she almost cracked a smile. He reminded her of herself when she had first joined the Guild, so innocent and wholesome. He would get over it. She crept to the side, studying the scene before her. Three large humanoid trolls, much different from the ape-like versions in Skyrim, stood around a fire, one stirring a large pot which she could only guess held the base for horse stew. One had tossed the horses into a small roped-off pen, and another was complaining about how much mutton he had consumed in the past few days.

"Oh, I don't like horse. I never 'ave. Not enough fat on 'em," griped one as he turned back to the pot one of the others was stirring.

"Well, it's better than leathery ol' farmer. All skin and bone, he was. I'm still picking bits of 'im out of me teeth," the one stirring the pot recalled. Anaïs crouched deeper in the bushes, eyes searching for Bilbo. At the thought of the hobbit, she saw movement off to the side. Bilbo rushed through the edge of the shadows, moving toward the horse pen. Anaïs took her eyes off of her companion and switched her gaze to the trolls. Ugly things, they were, all hard surfaces and disgusting faces. She fought a grimace as she breathed into the mouthpiece of her cowl. They were fragrant, even from a distance. Her attention was caught as one of them sneezed... right into the stew.

"Well, that's lovely, that is. A floater," said the one stirring.

The one who had grabbed the horses quipped, "Might improve the flavor!"

"Ah, there's more where that came from!" said the sneezer. He began to gather snot in his nose as Anaïs grimaced from her hidden spot in the bushes. Definitely uncivilized. He was grabbed by the nose by the pot-stirrer, who hollered, "Oh no you don't!" and tossed the second troll down into his seat.

The sneezing troll brought out a makeshift handkerchief, which had to be the size of a large tablecloth. He sneezed into it loudly, blowing his nose like a trumpet. Off to her right, Bilbo struggled with the rope around the enclosure. Her heart leapt into her throat as the second troll turned to the enclosure, studying the horses. For a second, Anaïs thought he was speaking to Bilbo until his words were directed to the pot-stirring troll.

The first troll smacked the second with his spoon loudly, yelling for him to sit down. The second troll, rubbing his head, obeyed as the third shouted, "I'm starving! Now are we having horse tonight or what?"

Anaïs turned her attention back to Bilbo, who had stopped yanking at the unforgiving ropes and had begun to creep over toward the second troll. _What do you see, hobbit? _Her eyes searched the troll for what had attracted Bilbo, finally catching on the glint of dull steel. _Very smart, Master Baggins,_ she mused, a smirk sliding onto her lips.

"I'm just saying, a little appreciation would be nice," said the pot-stirrer. A pony neighed by Bilbo, and she saw the troll tense. After a moment, he went back to his rant. "'Thank you very much, Bert. Lovely stew, Bert.' How hard is that?"

Anaïs' breath caught in her throat as the second troll began to feel around blindly for the squirrel dung Bert had requested. He grabbed a large tankard of sorts, only to be chastised by Bert for grabbing 'his grog'. Anaïs felt her heart slow in her chest as she closed her eyes. She was getting too worried for the little hobbit. Bert had tasted the stew, commenting on its balanced taste. Bilbo took his chance and darted behind the second troll, reaching for the blade at the troll's waist. Anaïs didn't dare take her eyes off of the hobbit, but the sound of crashing leaves behind her tore her attention away. Thorin had come up beside her, crouching low like she was.

"What is he doing?" hissed the leader. His icy blue eyes studied her carefully as she turned her head fully toward him.

"He is trying to free the ponies," she stated simply, her low voice rumbling in her chest. He glared at her, and she could almost see him fight to not roll his eyes. Before them, she could hear the sneezing troll have another fit, but what surprised her was what came next.

"Blimey! Bert, Bert! Look what's come out of me hooter!" he cried, and they all turned to see Bilbo caught in the slimy mess of the troll's handkerchief. "It's got arms and legs and everything."

"What is it?" asked Bert, cocking his large head as he studied Bilbo with what Anaïs could see was his one good eye.

"I don't know," replied the sneezy troll. "But I don't like the way it wriggles around!" He tossed Bilbo and the handkerchief to the ground, and she heard the hobbit hit the forest floor with a sickening squish.

"We have to go in," she muttered to Thorin, barely sparing him a glance. She knew the way he looked at the hobbit; if it were up to him, they would leave Bilbo to his fate. She could feel his stare boring into her temple, but she didn't let it phase her. She gripped her ankles, fingering the handles of her blades. "That, or I'll go in and show up all of your men."

"Perhaps there's more burglar Hobbits around these parts. Might be enough for a pie!" Anaïs jerked her head back in the direction of the trolls. One was threatening Bilbo wildly with a large blade, and she looked at Thorin once more, glaring fiercely as the trolls made to grab Bilbo.

"Master Thorin!" she hissed.

"Gotcha!" One of the trolls had grabbed Bilbo by the ankles and was dangling him over the stew pot, brandishing his large blade at the hobbit's face as he inquired whether there were anymore burglar-Hobbits about.

"If you won't, I will," Anaïs growled as she unsheathed her blades.

"Hold his toes over the fire! Make him squeal!" shouted one of the trolls. Beside her, Thorin nodded to the others, unsheathing his sword. Kili leapt from the bushes behind the suggestive troll, slicing at his ankles. Stepping away, he pointed his sword toward them in a readied stance.

"Drop him!" he shouted, only to the confusion of the trolls.

"I said... drop him," Kili repeated, and the troll holding Bilbo growled, tossing Bilbo through the air to land on top of Kili.

"Now!" hissed Thorin as he charged forward, leading his company on a full-blown attack on the trolls. Anaïs grinned to herself as she followed Bofur into battle. Swinging her blades at the troll known as Bert, she sliced at his ankles as Bombur stabbed at his knees. Around her, the others were trying similar tactics, only able to reach the lower appendages of their bumbling adversaries.

"Get the sacks! Stick 'em in the sacks!" cried a troll from above her as he stumbled around, trying to avoid Dwalin's warhammer. She sliced at his ankles, spinning to stab at another troll's heel. She couldn't help but admire the dwarves' synchronization and ability to play off of each other in a fight, for Dwalin had set Thorin up to save Ori from the tight fist of Bert. She felt herself get nudged toward the others as Thorin stopped mid-slash to stare above her. Darting toward Balin, who stood just behind Thorin, she held her blades at the ready as she turned to face whatever Thorin was staring at.

The trolls had grabbed Bilbo and were holding him by the arms and legs tight enough she could almost hear his tendons straining.

"Bilbo!" shouted Kili, but he was restrained by his uncle. Each of them went into a defensive stance, Anaïs doing the same.

"Lay down your arms, or we'll rip his off!" yelled the troll on the left. _He's not serious, is he? _Anaïs couldn't help but wonder, but by the way Bilbo's face went suddenly ashen, she knew they weren't in a humorous mood. Her gaze went to Thorin, who glared furiously up at the hobbit as if this were somehow his fault. It took him a few seconds, but he threw down his sword with a growl. The others followed suit, Anaïs being the last to sheath her blades at her ankles incredulously. They had given up so easy... but was the death of a hobbit worth their pride?

They were gathered quickly and pushed into stinking sacks, Anaïs' smelling of soiled pants and rotten tomatoes. She wrinkled her nose, glancing around her. Thorin was to her right, propped up against a boulder. Balin was to her left, and Bombur, Bilbo, Gloin, Kili, and Oin rounded out the rest in sacks. The others were tied around a spit, which the trolls were rotating slowly as they argued about how to cook the dwarves.

"Never mind the seasoning, we ain't got all night! Dawn ain't fair away. Let's get a move on! I don't fancy bein' turned to stone." Anaïs picked up on the troll's words, her eyes moving to the hulking beast. She had never heard of a troll turning to stone upon the break of daylight in Skyrim... but it was worth anything here to save their skins.

At her feet, Bilbo's head jerked around and she caught a glimpse of his wide eyes. He had heard it too. "Wait!" he yelled. "You are making a terrible mistake."

"You can't reason with them. They're half-wits!" Dori yelled from the spit.

"Half-wits? What does that make us?" countered Bofur.

"I meant with the, uh... seasoning," stated Bilbo as he wriggled to his feet. He hopped toward the fire, balancing himself well in the uneven sack.

"What about the seasoning?" asked a troll wearing a makeshift apron, one she hadn't made out before. She chuckled. _He must be the cook. How adorable. _

"Well, have you smelled them?" said Bilbo. "You're gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up." He flinched at the sudden uproar of dwarven insults, Bombur yelling loudest from below her.

"What do you know about cooking Dwarf?" the other troll asked, glaring at Bilbo from his place turning the spit.

"Shut up," Bert said. "Let the flurgaburburhobbit talk." He leaned down toward Bilbo, apron sagging in a way Anaïs wished it wouldn't.

Bilbo flashed him a semi-grateful smile and continued. "The secret to cooking Dwarf is, um... it's, uh..." he stumbled as the troll coaxed him on. "Yes, I'm telling you! The secret is..." Bilbo hesitated, glancing pointedly toward the dwarves on the ground. Anaïs could almost see the wheels turning in his sharp little brain as he searched for a reasonable answer. "To... skin them first!"

"Tom, get me filleting knife," said Bert amid angered shouts from the dwarves. Gloin shouted that he would skin Bilbo, and Anaïs was almost tempted to fall into the easy trap, but she glanced at the sky. The light of dawn was approaching, and quickly. Her eyebrows raised, and she glanced at Thorin, who had remained silent throughout the ordeal. Surely he understood?

"What a load of rubbish!" shouted the last unnamed troll. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scarf 'em, I say, boots and all."

As her eyes studied Thorin, she caught a flash of movement on a ridge above the trolls. Gray hair flashed in the rising sunlight as a grin slipped onto her face. _Almost there, my dear burglar. Keep going. _

"He's right, nothing wrong with a bit of raw Dwarf!" hissed Tom, the one who had been sitting in the middle between Bert and the other troll. He stomped over to the group in sacks where Anaïs was, and she curled herself deeper into the shadows as he grabbed for Bombur. Dangling him above his outstretched tongue, he hummed, "Nice and crunchy!"

"No, not that one! He's infected!" cried Bilbo, the trolls reacting in confusion as Tom paused in lowering Bombur into his mouth. "Yeah, he's got worms in his... t-tubes."

Tom, like when he had found Bilbo in his handkerchief, tossed Bombur away in disgust. "Ew!" he cried, shuddering a little in way only trolls could make disgusting.

"In fact, they all have. They're infested with parasites!" antagonized Bilbo, pushing the lie further and further. "It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" growled Oin, the ever vigilant.

"We don't have parasites!" Kili shouted angrily. "You have parasites!"

_Very mature, Master Kili._ Anaïs rolled her eyes as she glared at Bilbo. _Hopefully your tactic works, otherwise we'll be eaten for sure. _She looked to Thorin, whose gaze met hers in understanding. She nudged him with her foot through the sack, nodding slowly. He then kicked his nephew in the side, Kili glaring up at his uncle with distaste until his uncle's stare connected the wires in Kili's brain. At his silence, the others in the pile stopped shouting over each other and looked up at their kin.

"I-I've got parasites as big as my arm!" shouted Oin as he jerked his head around toward the trolls.

"Mine are the biggest parasites! I've got _huge_ parasites!" Kili shouted hysterically, and Anaïs rolled her eyes. These trolls had to be completely brain dead to not see the desperation in the dwarves' voices as they clamored over each other, each claiming to have parasites upon parasites.

"What would you have us do then? Let 'em all go?" asked the last troll, stomping toward Bilbo as he accused him - rightly - of trickery.. and of being a ferret.

"The dawn will take you all!" Anaïs smiled as Gandalf appeared over the ridge above them, standing atop a large, albeit cracked stone. He held his staff tightly in his fists, glaring down upon the scene below him.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?" Each troll chimed in as they stared dumbly at the wizard, who responded merely with the stabbing of his staff into the large crack upon the boulder, effectively splitting it in half. He sidestepped, allowing the light of dawn to flood in and capture all below in its glaring luminescence.

Anaïs ducked her head, hearing the troll's pained groans as their skin turned to stone before their eyes, leaving them all free. As they wriggled from their sacks, some went to help their kin tied on the spit as she beelined toward Bilbo. "Smart thinking, burglar," she said with an amused wink. "If we had not had you along, we would have been troll droppings by tomorrow night." Anaïs placed a light hand on his shoulder and smiled as she turned to help the others. "It's nice having you with us, Master Baggins." As she stepped away, she almost missed his response.

"You as well, Miss Anaïs."

Gandalf led them down a steep path, the stench of troll overwhelming Anaïs' senses. The trolls of Skyrim had nothing on the mountain trolls of Middle-earth. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she padded lightly behind Bilbo as they followed Gandalf toward what he called a 'troll hoard'. She could only imagine what that was, but she wasn't disappointed to find it was a collection of sorts that the trolls had gathered over the years.

Feces and other fragrant offerings the trolls had left behind were scattered over the dirt floor of the hoard, and she stepped carefully around each pile as she looked around. Nocturnal's cowl had gifted her with better night vision than before, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to her distant favored Daedra as she caught the glint of gold and silver around her. The dwarves in the company coughed and she felt the favor of her matron as she breathed through the cowl silently. _Thank the Daedra for this fabric,_ she sighed, grasping the torch that Bofur passed to her from farther down the line.

Behind her, Bofur's voice echoed in the small space. "Seems a shame to just leave it lying around," he hinted, glancing up at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes as he touched a large pile of gold at his feet. "Anyone could take it..."

"Agreed," came Gloin's voice from behind her, a chest of similar items open before him. "Nori, get a shovel."

Anaïs shook her head, chuckling to herself as she turned toward the deeper reaches of the hoard. Thorin had pulled two cobwebbed blades from a rack and were examining them with restrained awe. "These swords were not made by any Troll," he murmured, almost to himself.

Gandalf, who had come to his side, reached out a long hand to grasp the sword Thorin held out to him. "Nor were they made by any smith among Men," he mused, pulling the sword from its sheath and blowing away the dust that marred the steel. "These were forged in Gondolin, by the High Elves of the First Age."

Anaïs almost missed Thorin's disgust, for the mention of High Elves rocked her stony resolve. She had stopped just behind Dwalin, her eyes glued to the steel sword that Gandalf was carefully studying. _Altmer? Here? _She lifted a trembling hand to her cheek, covered by the cowl. As Thorin was told off by Gandalf - as he could not find a finer blade, Anaïs stared at the dwarf. He had studied her with such distrust before, but had not voiced its origins. This was the first she had heard of elven distrust here in these lands, but had Gandalf not told her to wear her cowl at all times around the dwarves? The wizard glanced up at her, almost seeming to check if she were still following his instructions. She nodded slowly, turning to leave.

The dwarves behind her had finished making their 'long term deposit', as Gloin put it, and she strode past them carefully. Gandalf's long strides caught up with her, and he placed the dusty handle of a sword into her fingers. "Take this, my dear. Your daggers will only be of use for so much longer," he muttered into her ear as he passed.

She glared at his retreating back as she examined the blade. He had to have grabbed it after she turned, for he was still holding the blade Thorin had handed him. The sword he had given her was curved, much like the scimitars of the Redguards she had met in Whiterun so many years ago. Elven writing adorned the center of the blade, winding across shimmering steel. The pommel was of a golden color, and it seemed to hum at her touch. She smirked, and sheathed it on her hip.

"Something's coming!" shouted Thorin from atop the ridge, and her head jerked up. Her tired limbs screamed at her, begging for it to merely be a trick of the eyes; however, Thorin would not mistake mere birds or woodland creatures for an actual threat.

"Stay together!" Gandalf warned as he reached for his newly-acquired sword. "Hurry now! Arm yourselves!" He, as well as thirteen armed-to-the-teeth dwarves, stormed the ridge in the direction of the intrusion. Anaïs followed, passing Bilbo on her way. He was gazing down uncertainly at a shortsword, one she could only imagine had been given to him by Gandalf from the troll hoard. She placed her free hand on his shoulder as she passed him, unsheathing her sword with her other hand.

"Come," she ordered, and he obeyed, dashing after the others.

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" came a cry through the trees, and a sleigh pulled by _rabbits_ came to a sliding stop almost on top of Bifur. As he growled in unintelligable Dwarvish, her eyes rose to meet those of their intruder. He seemed off-kilter, wearing a large hat that covered the source of what looked to be bird droppings on the side of his frantic face. Matted brown hair covered his face, tangled with bits of leaves and twigs.

From behind her, a sigh of relief heaved from the gray wizard. "Radagast," Gandalf laughed, lowering his weapons amid the strange looks from the dwarves and Bilbo. "It's Radagast the Brown." Anaïs took her cue from the others, sheathing her weapon quietly as Gandalf stepped forward to the Brown Wizard. "What on earth are you doing here?" he questioned as he leaned on his staff.

"I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong," Radagast replied, and Anaïs' eyebrow quirked upward. "Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?" prompted Gandalf. By the tone of his voice, something must have always been wrong in Radagast's eyes where there was nothing to be found.

The other wizard held up a finger as he went to speak, but Anaïs couldn't tell if it was sheer excitement or forgetfulness that made the wizard lose his train of thought. She looked to Bilbo, who mirrored her incredulation. "Oh, I had a thought and now I've lost it! It was right there on the tip of my tongue!" As he paused, his blue eyes grew wide and his speech slurred a little. "Oh! It's not a thought at all! It's a silly old..." Gandalf reached up and pinched at Radagast's tongue, drawing forth a- "stick insect!"

At the sounds of disgust from the dwarves around her, Gandalf led the insane wizard away a few feet for some privacy, and she honestly couldn't blame him. If she were trying to sort out the mad thoughts of a wizard, she would wish for some solitude to think without others spectating. She sat down upon a large rock nearby, adjusting the quiver on her back that she had almost forgotten was there. Sixty arrows, all made of ebony and raven's feathers, aligned the leather pouch, all made by her hand before her sudden departure from Skyrim.

Kili sat beside her, glancing at the quiver. "Nice," he commented, touching the feathers of one arrow. "Did you make them yourself?"

Anaïs nodded. "Of course. A woman's greatest pride is that of what she makes herself," she replied with a hazy smile behind her cowl.

Kili seemed to study her for a moment, his dark brows crinkling. "It's very hard to tell your emotions, miss. You constantly hide your face behind that blasted cowl... we can't even really see your eyes!" he scowled, his finger moving from her arrows to her jawline. She swatted his hand away, tilting her head in his direction.

"Did your mother teach you your manners, or did Thorin?" she teased gently. She had gathered, both from word of mouth and the brothers' antics toward their leader, that the three were close kin.

"Both, actually," he replied with a grin. "See, if I had been able to see your face, I would think you were actually joking with me, mistress of seriousness." He studied her carefully, and Anaïs shook her head.

"Don't get used to it."

Howls, unlike the ones she had heard from the outlying plains of Whiterun on many late nights, echoed through the trees ominously, gathering the attention of every Dwarf, Wizard, Hobbit, and woman. "Was that a wolf?" asked Bilbo. "Are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves? No, that is not a wolf," said Bofur as he stared out through the trees. Growling came from above Anaïs, and she turned her head slowly, her eyes widening. A large animal, half-wolf and half-horse it seemed, was crouching between boulders at the top of the ridge, its luminescent eyes fixed on the dwarves below. At the sound of its growls, the dwarves turned and shouted in fear as the beast pounced, leaping on Dori. It was sliced by Thorin, who shouted for Kili to get his bow.

Anaïs followed suit, reaching into her quiver for her arrows as Kili at her side did the same, aiming for another beast who had crept up behind Thorin. As his uncle ducked, Kili loosed his arrow into the beast's eye socket, Dwalin countering the strike with a swing of his hammer.

"Warg scouts!" revealed Thorin as he reclaimed his blade from the warg's head. "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

Bilbo's question of "Orc pack?" was lost as Gandalf stormed forward past Radagast, his gaze level with Thorin's. "Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?"

"No one," Thorin said.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf shouted, fiery gaze focused solely on their leader.

"No one, I swear," Thorin fumed. "What in Durin's name is going on?" Anaïs, at the mention of Durin, made a mental note to ask Gandalf who that was when all this was over.

Gandalf's eyes searched the horizon frantically, long fingers tapping on his staff. "You are being hunted," he stated, and Bilbo's eyes across from her went wide once more. _Poor hobbit_, she thought. _Hopefully he gets out of this alive. _

"We have to get out of here," growled Dwalin, but he was cut short by Ori's shout from atop the hill.

"We can't! We have no ponies, they bolted!" Anaïs' head jerked upward, a slight grin hidden on her lips. Shadowmere would not have bolted, not the Oblivion-sent steed who had climbed steep mountains without a worried nicker or had faced countless adversaries when Anaïs had been knocked out of the saddle unexpectedly. But for pity's sake, she kept this to herself. Shadow would find her when the trouble had passed, as he always did.

A voice, thick with resolve, came from behind Gandalf. "I'll draw them off," announced Radagast, a sly smile working its way from under his beard.

"These are Gundabad wargs. They will outrun you," countered Gandalf, turning to face the eccentric wizard. He was met only by the full slyness of the Brown Wizard, and in that moment, Anaïs felt a drip of respect build for the strange man.

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I'd like to see them try."

Gandalf peered around the edge of the boulder, squinting as he trailed the fleeing Radagast. He was followed by a group of dozens of Wargs mounted - and unmounted - by Orcs, all screeching in their guttural language as they chased the wizard over the hill out of sight.

"Come on," Gandalf urged, pushing forward into a sprint as they darted toward the next formation. Thorin easily overpowered him, pushing to the front of the pack as the company of fifteen pushed onward down hills and leaping over rock formations with relative ease. Anaïs stayed near the back of the company, her bow drawn and an arrow nocked for good measure. Her eyes sought out the fleeing Radagast, tracing his path over again as he flew around boulders with ease. For a moment, she lost him. When he reappeared, his path crossed directly over theirs, and Thorin halted them quickly. "Stay together," hissed Gandalf as they redirected themselves.

The dwarves, laden down with heavy packs of supplies and weapons each, made fast but uneasy progress across the sloping ground, pushing forward only as warriors could. Many times, she caught Bilbo by the arm and yanked him forward, forcing him to stay with the group. "You can't fall behind," she growled, pushing him in front of her. "Keep running, or it will be your life."

At the next large formation, Ori had barely stepped into the open before Thorin grabbed him back out of the line of sight of the approaching Orcs. They seemed to be circling closer and closer, growing tired of chasing the wily Radagast. Gandalf streamed them forward, and as she passed him and Thorin, she could have sworn she heard the latter ask where Gandalf was leading them.

Anaïs could barely afford to glance over her shoulder, but she did. The orcs had circled back, their paths doomed to cross once more. As the company angled themselves for another rock formation, her eyes caught movement across the rocky hillside. An Orc was staring directly at them. Her heart leapt into her throat and she pushed her burning legs faster, reaching an arm out occasionally to push forward a slowing comrade. At the next formation, they paused, and she heard the reason why as it prowled above them. She hadn't been crazy, for the Orc that had been staring had caught up to them quickly.

Anaïs pressed her body to the rock, pulling Bilbo in alongside her. Her head leaned back, eyes searching the edge above her for the shadow of the warg and its rider. Down the rock, Kili took a step out, drawing back his bow and loosing an arrow into the neck of the warg. As the animal fell struggling before the dwarves, its rider climbed to its feet, weapon in hand. It charged Kili, but was struck down by Dwalin and Bifur before it could reach its mark.

Over her shoulder, shouts in the guttural language of the orcs rang out over the hillside, and she knew their position had been compromised. As Thorin joined in for the death blow on the wounded orc, Anaïs fingered her bow in anticipation. "Move!" shouted Gandalf. "Run!"

The dwarves wasted no time in obeying the wizard as they tapped into the last of their energy. Each pumped away faster than they had before, knowing they had no distraction this time to keep them safe. As they climbed yet another hillside, Anaïs heard the howls and grunts of their pursuers.

"There they are!" confirmed Gloin, and her stomach flipped. Wargs were approaching on each side, and no matter where they tried to run, their adversaries were closing in. Gandalf tried to lead them back the way they came, but more wargs closed in.

"There's more coming!" screamed Kili, and Anaïs turned to face him.

"Anaïs, Kili! Shoot them!" Thorin commanded, and they obeyed. Where Kili shot the warg, she shot its rider. Her front fingers rested on the emblem of Nocturnal, and with each arrow, she sent a prayer to her matron that she might not miss her mark. Karliah had given her the bow and had told her she would not miss - but a little faith went a long way, especially for a Nightingale.

"We're surrounded!" Anaïs shot an Orc off of his tan Warg, Kili having sidestepped to watch her back as more enemies closed in on all sides. The others, wielding hammers and swords, were standing farther out, swinging wildly with a mad grace as their adversaries fought honorlessly back.

"Where's Gandalf?" shouted one of the dwarves behind her.

"He's abandoned us," Dwalin growled as he stepped backward toward a dark rock formation. Anaïs turned her head, shooting over Kili's shoulder as a warg tried to circle around to the back of their companions. The other dwarves had begun to cluster around the large boulder, weapons at the ready. Anaïs whistled at Kili, catching his attention and jerking her head backward. Thankfully he understood, and they backed up slowly, stringing another arrow as quickly as possible.

"This way, you fools!" called a familiar voice, and her heart sped up with gratitude. Gandalf had not abandoned them; he had merely been searching for an escape route. She and Kili stepped backward a little quicker, covering their companions as they scurried after Gandalf. A warg, catching the lack of attention from both Kili and Anaïs, who were both occupied with their own adversaries, leapt toward Thorin, only to have its neck slashed by his waiting blade.

"Kili! Anaïs! Run!" Both did as they were told, Anaïs sliding her arrow back into the quiver as she sprinted after Kili. He leapt over the rock, sliding down the smooth stone and tucking himself into a roll at the bottom as he collided with Bofur. Thorin glanced back at her, steely eyes studying her as she reached back for her arrow.

"Don't play the hero, girl," he snarled as she glared back at him. "Come on!" With one last glance back to the orcs, she growled and shoved the arrow back in her quiver for the second time, following Thorin down the rock's smooth surface to safety.

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><p>Please review!<p> 


	5. Chapter 4: An Elf Among Us

A/N: As usual, I only own Anaïs and her storyline. I do not own anything Elder Scrolls or Hobbit related.

Thank you for all the favorites and the review I received! I was smiling ear to ear last night, and it was all because of you guys. Here's chapter 4. I realize one of the revelations may not be a surprise but the other was something I thought of a week ago and added in last minute. Please review & let me know what you think!

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><p>"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf said, stepping from the pass behind Bilbo. "In the common tongue, it is known by another name."<p>

The name was lost upon her tongue, and Bilbo was the one to reveal it to all. "Rivendell," he stated simply, awe in his tone. Anaïs saw Thorin's glare cut back to Gandalf, eyes filled with distrust.

"Here lies the last Homely House East of the Sea," Gandalf continued, stopping just over Thorin's shoulder. Thorin turned, wielding his axe close to his side.

"This was your plan all along," he accused, his growl low in his throat. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield," scolded Gandalf, much like a mother scolds a young child on a misconception spread by rumor. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us," Thorin continued, shaking his head vehemently.

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered," Gandalf responded, raising his eyebrows at the Durin heir. Thorin took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, for he knew he was caught. Anaïs knew the answers they desperately needed were beyond their reach and the only way to reach them seemed to be residing in the valley below. With a swallow, Thorin held his pride in check as Gandalf continued, "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact... and respect, and no small degree of charm." As they began to filter down the mountainside on the precarious pathway into the valley, the wizard added, "Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

_Cheeky bastard._

Anaïs followed behind Gandalf as they walked over a thin stone walkway, leading into a courtyard of sorts below a tall staircase. Beyond the stairs, curved white buildings reached into the sky, and her breath caught in her throat. She had not seen architechtural beauty such as this since she was a child, and if she had not restrained herself, she might have teared up. However, the moment was ruined as her attention went to a tall, graceful brunette elf who stepped toward them down the stairs. "Mithrandir," he greeted, his smile warm.

Gandalf opened his arms in greeting, his smile matching the elf's. "Lindir." When the elf responded in a melodic tongue, Gandalf shook his head gently. "I must speak with Lord Elrond," he answered tensely.

"My Lord Elrond is not here," came the Elf's reply.

"Not here? Where is he?" questioned Gandalf, and Anaïs could almost see his eyebrow raise at the same instant a familiar horn blasted across the valley. All the dwarves, including Bilbo and herself, turned to face the approaching invaders. Elves, all mounted upon sleek steeds, trotted across the thin bridge, all eyes on the troupe of dwarves in the courtyard. Thorin shouted in Dwarvish and the common tongue to close ranks, and she felt Kili's hand at her side pull her in and backward. She looked to her right, seeing Bilbo tossed in the center with her.

As the horses began to circle them, the Dwarves growled ferociously - _or so they probably think, _Anaïs thought - and brandished their weapons. When the horses finally came to a stop, a brunette Elf, much older than Lindir, greeted Gandalf.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf said warmly, then bowed low before the Elf, speaking in an Elvish tongue that Anaïs had only heard for the first time moments before. Elrond responded in the same language, swinging off of his horse and stepping toward the Grey Wizard, embracing him warmly. The dwarves around her were still uneasy, weapons at the ready in their waiting hands. Each looked between their companions and the elves around them with growing uncertainty.

Lord Elrond grasped a strange weapon in his hands as he gave Gandalf a pointed look. "Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders," he commented, stepping past the Wizard to hand the weapon to Lindir. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near."

Gandalf sheepishly replied, "Ah. That may have been us." At his words, the dwarves began to lower their weapons cautiously, Lord Elrond studying the company. Thorin stepped forward, malice in his icy blue eyes. Anaïs' fingers wandered to her cowl, ensuring it was still secured.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain," Lord Elrond greeted, studying the dwarven king before him. Anaïs' eyes pored over the Elven lord, taking in his armored form. Long dark hair, much like Lindir behind him, reached to his waist, and a dark circlet rested above his eyes. Dark, calculating eyes gazed down upon the dwarf, searching his visitor's gaze for something unknown.

"I do not believe we have met," answered Thorin, caution vibrating in his deep voice.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Elrond explained with a slight smirk. Anaïs could read no ill intent behind his words. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."

"Indeed?" answered Thorin. "He made no mention of you."

The Elven lord glared at him, speaking again lowly in that melodic tongue. Behind her, Gloin growled, "What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" He raised his ax as he pushed through the other dwarves surrounding him, some mirroring his defensive gesture.

"No, Master Gloin," Gandalf answered tiredly, shaking his head. "He's offering you food."

The dwarves turned away, muttering amongst themselves for a moment. Anaïs stood, raising an eyebrow throughout the entire ordeal. Her gaze connected with Lord Elrond's for a brief second, but she felt his stare bore into her as she looked away. "Well," Gloin said, "In that case, lead on."

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><p>The Elves had been gracious enough to give her a room to herself, one with a soft bed and warm hearth. The room had been draped in various shades of golden fabrics, the curtains at the windows opened enough to let sunlight filter in. There had not been a private bath attached to her room, but the female elf attending her showed her the bath houses down below the patio where the company was to gather for dinner.<p>

A pastel green dress with golden accents had been laid across the comforter, obviously there for her to wear. Whether it was wished of her host or simply a gracious gift, Anaïs was unsure; she remained in her own armor nonetheless. As she sat with the others at the dinner table, she couldn't help but wonder why she alone had gotten a room. The others were camping out on a lower porch, vulnerable to the elements. She understood they were used to it - Gods knew she was - but a bed for a night would be a welcome change.

"Try it, just a mouthful," coaxed Dori to his brother Ori across the table. Ori was holding a large green leaf of lettuce, staring at it as if it had three heads.

Ori scowled a little and shook his head. "I don't like green food," he pouted slightly and put the leaf down with disdain.

Beside her, Dwalin lifted the entire contents of his salad bowl to look beneath the greens. "Where's the meat?" he asked hurriedly, something probably all of the dwarves were wondering themselves. Anaïs chewed at her own salad, keeping her contentedness to herself. She had lowered the cowl enough to eat, keeping her head leaned forward to extend the shadow of her hood over her face.

"Have they got any chips?" asked Ori. As he leaned down the table, disappointed at the lack of chips and red meats, Gandalf, Lord Elrond, Thorin, and Lindir entered and took their seats at a table nearby. Anaïs strained her ears to hear any part of the conversation.

"This is Orcrist, the goblin-cleaver," Lord Elrond noted with a good deal of awe towards the blade. "A famous blade forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well." Anaïs could almost hear Thorin's scowl growing in disapproval. "And this is Glamdring, the Foehammer... sword of the King of Gondolin. These were forged-"

Lord Elrond's voice was replaced by Balin's just down the table. His dark eyes were trained on Bilbo, shaking his white head in disapproval. "I wouldn't bother, laddie," he said quietly, looking down into Bilbo's lap where his short sword lay partially unsheathed. "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

"What are you saying, my sword hasn't seen battle?" Bilbo asked.

"I'm not actually sure it is a sword. More of a letter-opener, really," Balin replied with a tiny smile. Anaïs couldn't help but chuckle as Bilbo's face fell.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road," Anaïs heard Gandalf say from behind her. "Shortly before we were ambushed by orcs." No use hiding that detail from him, considering he had finished off their ambushers shortly after they fled to safety.

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road, especially in the company of thirteen dwarves, a Hobbit, and an Elf?" Anaïs' heart stopped as the table above them grew silent. Luckily she had swallowed her current bite of food a minute before, otherwise she would have choked on it. From the corner of her eye, she could see Thorin's head raise slowly, turning to look at the table behind them. His eyes connected with her profile, and he rose slowly from his chair.

"Stand up."

Anaïs turned her head toward Thorin, eyes burning underneath her hood. It was no secret who he was speaking to. She placed her fork on the table as she leaned back steadily. As the last light of the day filtered through the tree on the patio, the rays fell upon the bottom half of her face. Full, pink lips were drawn into a grim line, pale golden skin shining dully with the dried sweat she had yet to wash off. She did as she was told, swinging her long legs around and standing from the table, narrowly avoiding kneeing Dwalin in the side. Standing to her full height, she stood level with the flute player who had been serenading them throughout dinner.

"Take off your hood," Thorin demanded.

Anaïs hesitated, exhaling slowly. A pale hand reached up to the edge of the hood and if Bilbo looked close enough, he would have seen her shaking fingers. The fabric fell to her neck, revealing for the first time their female companion. Only Gandalf was not shocked by the woman before them, who in appearance was a full-blooded Elf. Most startling of all were her ember eyes, burning in their depths with a fire only few of them had seen before. Dark raven hair, tinged with burgundy, was tangled with a few leaves and tiny twigs, evidence of her journey. Pointed ears stuck out from the burgundy strands, the tips beginning to flush red with irritation.

"Why did you bring an Elf into our midst?" Thorin had turned to face Gandalf, betrayal in his icy eyes. He seemed to have forgotten their gracious hosts, Lord Elrond seeming to bite his tongue at the angry comment from the Dwarf.

"She has the skills you need to slay that dragon permanently," the wizard replied with set determination. "And she is the only one to possess it. You need her help."

"Where were the Elves when we needed them most?" Thorin shouted, scowling deeper than Anaïs had seen before. "Why should I accept her help? Does it take a promise of treasure for an Elf to come to their ally's aid?"

"I was not interested in any earthly treasure, as you may believe, Master Oakenshield," the alto voice rang out from the thin body. A rumble ran through the ground, centered on Anaïs. She stared down the dwarven king, scowling. "My reward is that dragon's soul."

"A likely story."

Gandalf looked between the two, becoming more flustered. "She has slain every living dragon in her homeland. She is the single most successful dragon slayer _in the world_, and you would turn down her services because she is _an Elf_?" He shook his grey head and growled. "Never have I been so insulted." He looked to Lord Elrond, placing a thin hand upon the Elf's. "Excuse me, and accept my apologies for this rather... distasteful turn of events." With those words, he stood and left the patio.

Anaïs remained standing, still as a statue as Thorin stepped toward her. He did not excuse himself as he passed her, a cold chill brushing past her. She felt the gazes of the twelve dwarves seated near her, each seeming to be unsure of how to react. None of them were really close to her; she knew their loyalties would lie with their leader. With a short bow to Elrond, she muttered, "Excuse me." She turned on her heel and left, a shadow slipping from the stunned room.

She needed a bath.

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><p><strong><em>Bilbo's POV<em>**

The entire ordeal had been taxing for Bilbo, and he had quickly asked an elven attendant where he might find a place to soak away the rising stress. The attendant had pointed him to the bath house below the patio and he quickly made his way there. On the pathway, he ran straight into Thorin, who glared at him as if _he_ were the elf.

"Good evening," Bilbo greeted, gulping back his words as he continued on the path. Thorin barely gave him a nod and a grunt, and both men entered the bath house without another word. The bath house was simply decorated, mostly white stone and silver surfaces. Two large pools were placed side-by-side, sunk into the ground and steaming from their high temperature. Taps with various oils lined each one, and the scent of lavender floated up from one of the pools.

The men, one more self-conscious than the other, quickly stripped down to their underthings and approached the unscented pool. As they eased themselves into the steaming water, bubbles appeared across the surface of the pool. Both gave the other a curious look, and they leaned curiously on the stone behind them.

From the other side of the pool, a figure sliced through the surface, pale hands reaching to long raven hair to smooth it back. The figure's back was to them, but by her curves, it had to be female. Bilbo's eyes roved over the thin, shapely body, his gaze catching on jagged scars lining her spine and sides. Tattoos, all of strange origins, littered her body, following the curves of her hips and curling toward her stomach; up her arms and circling her shoulders; and following the line of her spine. The water reached just above her hips, covering her nether regions as she ran her hands down her hair.

"Enjoying the show?" Both men's eyes shot upward, catching the amused smirk of the woman tossed over her shoulder, none other than Anaïs. She chuckled to herself, the sound vibrating in the water. Dipping lower in the water so her torso was completely covered up to her neck, Anaïs turned to face them, eyebrows raised high in amusement.

Bilbo's cheeks reddened faster than Thorin's, quickly averting his eyes as he mumbled his apologies. At his side, Thorin merely grunted. Bilbo had not seen a woman naked before and even though it had only been the profile, it was someone he respected enough not to see this way. However, when he raised his eyes again to her, she winked.

"Master Oakenshield, if I may," she began, leaning backward toward one of the taps. She pumped out a few spurts of liquid, which bubbled as it hit the surface of the water. "So our burglar may feel more comfortable in my current presence." Anaïs shot Bilbo another smile and his blush reddened even more than he thought possible. She was a beautiful woman, despite the elven trademarks; high cheekbones, flawless skin, and impeccable eyesight. How could Thorin distrust such a woman?

Thorin grunted again, his gaze on the water below him. She was not uncomfortable bathing naked in a tub with men, Bilbo noticed. She almost seemed to embrace the fact that her nudity bothered both of them. Her telltale smirk, quite similar to the cat that ate the canary, was reflected in those fiery eyes, which had come to rest upon him.

"If you are uncomfortable," Anaïs stated, her voice resonating in his own chest, "I shall close my eyes, dive beneath once more, and allow you to step outside so I may dress. Then we shan't speak of it again." She looked between the two. "Or you two could submerge yourselves and swear to keep your eyes closed so I may dress and then we can have a discussion about the events at dinner."

Bilbo looked to Thorin, who hesitated before taking a deep breath and submerged himself beneath the soapy water. Bilbo did the same, counting to thirty in his head before resurfacing. A dressed Anaïs, wrapped in a forest green bathing robe, was perched on the edge of the tub, dangling her long legs in the water. "Master Oakenshield, I wish to apologize for Gandalf and I's lack of foresight when he hired me to accompany your company," she began. "He believed hiding my race would help me earn your trust early on, so that it may not be a problem later. I believed him, and we were both wrong. My goals are merely to destroy the dragon and help you reclaim your homeland. All I ask in return is safe passage back to my own home." She placed a fist over her heart. "In Skyrim, especially among the native people, this gesture is a symbol of respect. I have nothing but respect for you, Master Oakenshield. I have sworn my life to this quest and I will give it if necessary."

Bilbo had read stories of the loyalty of dwarves and how honor was a large part of their culture. As Thorin glared up at their female companion, studying her elven features, he was surprised to see the dwarf rise from the water and exit the pool. Wrapping his body in a towel, he nodded to Anaïs. "We shall be leaving in a few hours. Lord Elrond will not allow our departure. Gandalf will be distracting him at counsel tonight so we can continue our journey," he stated gruffly. Striding past her, he added before stepping out the door, "If you do not meet us, we will leave without you."

Bilbo gulped quietly, his eyes shifting to her as Thorin left. She merely smiled and returned his gaze. "Shut your mouth, Master Baggins. You shall catch insects leaving it open like that," Anaïs said with a laugh, standing from the edge of the pool. She bent to grab a towel and folded it at the edge near where Bilbo was sitting as he did as he was told. He studied her carefully, gaze roving over her features.

"How come you don't look like Lord Elrond or Lindir?" he asked suddenly. His companion merely smirked, chuckling low in her throat.

"His people are named the same as mine, but they could not be any different. However, I am a mutt in my own land. I cannot call myself a High Elf these days, especially not with the way Skyrim is faring," Anaïs answered.

"You're a mix? Of what?" Bilbo asked, furrowing his brow as he leaned forward against the stone edge.

She sighed above him and stopped folding the towel. "My father was... of a rare race. He was the only one of his kind left." She didn't raise her gaze, merely examining the fabric of the towel carefully. "My mother, however, was full-blooded Altmer - High Elf in the common tongue - and she was of a... grand lineage."

"Were they allowed to be together?" Bilbo asked.

"Of course they were!" Anaïs replied. "He was a smart choice for her. They were both of the same caliber and my grandfather was ecstatic his daughter was marrying him." Her voice had grown soft as her eyes misted over. "Can you keep a secret, Master Baggins?"

"Of course," Bilbo answered. "But please, call me Bilbo."

"Alright, Bilbo," she replied, smiling as she said his name. He felt a thrill run through his heart as her accented voice, one he had never heard before, seemed to taste the way his name sounded on her tongue. She turned to him, placing her hands upon the towel that she had placed absently in her lap. "My parents were both heroes. Their union was a happy one, but the constant stress of being in the public eye was enough to drive them out of Cyrodiil. They had to go somewhere where no one knew who they were... so they traveled to an island north of Skyrim called Solstheim. There, I was born and raised while they lived quiet lives. A few years later, they decided things had calmed down enough to return to Cyrodiil. They were wrong. We had barely set foot in the Imperial City when the ruckus began. 'The Hero of Kvatch and the Nerevarine have borne a child! Oh, what a hero she will be!'" Anaïs paused, exhaling. When she spoke again, her bitter voice bit at the words. "My future was decided for me before my fifth year."

"Aren't you a hero?" Bilbo asked, confused by the names she had stated. They were heroes, she had said, and dragon slayers were the epitome of a hero, especially in a land overrun by them. Wouldn't she want the fame that he had only read about in his stories?

She laughed roughly. "Of course. I came into my destiny as everyone predicted. When I was found to be a dragon slayer of great legend, I couldn't escape it. I didn't want this, but apparently the Divines thought differently." Her eyes had fallen to the water below her, dark brows furrowing in frustration. Bilbo could only imagine what anger flowed behind those fiery eyes, and he reached a hand to touch the pale fingers that lay upon the towel. She flinched at his touch and her gaze cut to him, almost instinctively moving to defend herself as she jerked her fingers away. His eyes widened a little and he pulled away. Her mouth opened slightly as she caught his hurt. "I'm sorry," Anaïs apologized. "Thank you, Bilbo." She hesitantly patted his hand and stood. "I shall leave you to enjoy your bath. I will see you when we set out on the road."

The tall Elf turned and strode through the heavy door of the bath house, not sparing a backward glance. Bilbo sighed and sunk below the rippling surface of the bath water, his mind going a mile a minute, and all over the mysterious woman from Skyrim that had fallen into their path.


	6. Chapter 5: Thunder Battle

Sorry this took so long, but every time I would go to post this chapter, the document was always in some weird HTML state and I constantly had to go back and fix it. :/ But here's chapter 5, I hope you like it. I cut it off much earlier than I planned, but it felt like a good place to end.

To my guest reviewer: You actually planted an idea in my head that wasn't there before, so your suggestion may not be far off. ;D

A/N: I don't own anything except Anais and her storyline.

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><p><em>Anaïs POV.<em>

The company, under cover of night, stole away in the early hours of the morning. Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin had been summoned to a counsel with Lord Elrond concerning their quest earlier on in the night, and had returned to Anaïs sitting with the other dwarves, hair still damp from her dip in the baths. Her smile was infectious, as each dwarf surrounding her was laughing at the tale she had just finished recounting.

At the return of their leader, they had quickly sobered, gathered their belongings and snuck down to the stables, where Shadowmere had awaited his rider's return. Anaïs had patted his neck, whispering soft apologies in his ear. Where they were headed, the ponies could not follow. They had left on foot almost immediately after, Bilbo trailing behind as he stared back at the sprawling expanse of Rivendell. "Master Baggins," called Thorin from the front as he leaned on his axe and studied the hobbit with a barely hidden warning, "I suggest you keep up."

Anaïs placed a hand on his shoulder and nudged him forward, casting their leader a stony glare. "Do as he says, Bilbo. I would quite like to keep our burglar," she said with a smile, leading him onward on the narrow path up the mountainside.

Balin led them over hills and across rivers, through tiny forests of squatting trees and plains with little vegetation for days that seemed unending, at least for her tiny companion. Anaïs would nudge the hobbit when he needed encouragement to keep moving, especially on the longer days. The air became nippy as they neared the Misty Mountains, the mountain range Gandalf had pointed out to her on the map many moons ago. She watched the peaks approach day after day, knowing of the many paths they could take, but only one had been cleared by their wizard. So Balin and Thorin directed them that way. They stopped only twice a day; once for lunch around the sun's highest peak and at night to rest. At night, gathered around the fire, Anaïs would tell another story of her homeland, quickly winning over most of the dwarves. The only one who seemed to keep her at arm's length was Thorin, but she did not dwell on his actions. If Gandalf was right, she would only be in their presence until the Lonely Mountain was reclaimed. So she ignored his stony attitude and kept the others entranced by her tales.

One stormy night, the company found themselves on the edge of a mountain, being pounded against the rocks by driving rain. Around them, lightning flashed and thunder cracked, and Anaïs - more than once - had to hold tight to Bilbo. Over the past few days, she had been appointed as Bilbo's unofficial babysitter, constantly keeping an eye on the hobbit with a caring nature. The others were happy to give her the job, and she graciously accepted - if silence meant 'yes'. As the wind tossed them around on their feet, she stuck close to the wall, cowl and hood returned to their original place.

In front of her, Bilbo slipped on a loose rock and tripped close to the edge, catching her by the arm. She stumbled, her hand gripping his wrist strongly as he clutched at hers. His wide eyes portrayed his fright as he kicked at the rocks hopelessly, trying to get a foothold. Dwalin, to her right, reached around her and pulled the hobbit back, eyeing him roughly as Anaïs gave the elder dwarf a look. "Sorry," Bilbo mouthed to both of them, seeming sheepish at the third slip of the day in that same area.

"We must find shelter!" shouted Thorin from above them, and Anaïs fought to roll her eyes. She had been informed of the deadline on their quest, but trying to battle their way through a freak storm was not the best of Thorin's decisions. Still, she pushed on, almost running smack into Bofur, who had stopped in awe as he stared out over the expanse of the chasm splitting the mountain ridges.

"LOOK OUT!" bellowed Dwalin from behind her and her eyes followed Bofur's gaze as a rock the size of Jorrvaskr slammed into the mountain just above them. All ducked, and Anaïs sheltered Bilbo beneath her tall body as shards of rock rained down upon them.

"This is no thunderstorm!" Balin shouted from the head of the company. "It's a thunder-battle! Look!" He pointed in the direction the boulder had been thrown from, and Anaïs' eyes widened behind her dark cowl. A large, humanoid rock giant had stepped out of the side of a mountain ridge, grasping another huge boulder in its hands. It blended into the mountainside, and she cursed herself for not catching its movement sooner. Bofur, caught in a daze, stepped closer to the edge as he stared up in awe at the rock giant. "Well bless me!" he cried, "the legends are true!" Her hand shot out, gripping his sleeve tight.

"Get back here, Master Bofur!" she hissed loudly over the crack of thunder that split the sky above them. The stone giant before them hurled the large boulder over their heads and Anaïs turned in time to see the huge rock splinter against the hulking form of another stone giant behind them. "Malacath's toenails!" she cried, yanking the dwarf toward her as the battle ensued, the company an unwilling party caught directly in the middle.

"Take cover, you fool!" bellowed Thorin, and Kíli and Oin assisted in helping Bofur follow his orders. Suddenly, a sensation she had only felt on the back of Odahving swept her off-balance, and she careened into Kili. Gripping his shoulders, she felt his hand on her elbow as Dwalin screamed for them to hold on. She slowly realized what was happening, swallowing her gasp in her throat. They had found themselves on the legs of another stone giant, one who was opening a crack in the mountain enough to separate the party. She clung to Kili as they crashed into the side of the mountain. Seeing their opportunity, she pushed herself off of him.

"Let's go!" she cried, following the others on their side of the giant off of his rocky legs. As they fell onto the path once more, they turned to stare at the remainder of the battle. Anaïs' eyes darted from shelf to shelf, looking for their companions. Not enough of them had been on the leg to make it to safety and she could just make out Bilbo's terrified face gawking at them from the swinging legs of the stone giant.

Anaïs closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer upward to Azura. "Let them be fine," she murmured as she reopened her eyes to see the other half of their company swinging toward them. She let out a yell as they passed, slamming into the side of the mountain just before them. As the leg swung back and the giant fell into the ravine below, she looked to the ledge where their companions had been. It was empty.

"NO!" she cried out, Thorin echoing her sentiment. In that moment, she realized the love she had for the company, regardless of how their leader seemed to avoid and distrust her. In the time since they had left Rivendell, she had found them to be welcoming of her stories and quite possibly even of the thought of an elven woman warrior actually wishing to accompany them for no reason other than their own. As she helplessly followed the company toward where the stone giant had crashed into the cliff, she heard Balin yell back the most comforting words she had heard in a while.

"They're alright!"

As she breathed a sigh of relief and caught up to the others, her eyes began to search the survivors. She mentally did a head count and when the number came up short, she furrowed her brow. Again and again, she counted, but it wasn't until Bofur echoed her unknown thoughts did she realize their mistake. "Where's Bilbo? Where's the Hobbit?"

A little whimper floated up on the wind, almost missed amid the sound of the rain. Anaïs looked down and immediately dropped to her stomach. Bilbo's fingers were white at the knuckles as he tightly gripped the rock's edge, hanging on for dear life. She grasped his wrists tightly, pulling upward as one of the others darted forward and tried to grab his hand. Bilbo slipped, dropping several inches and pulling Anaïs along with him. Anaïs didn't weigh very much, and she immediately dug in with her feet, sitting up as much as she could while hanging halfway off the ledge. Dwalin reached for Bilbo's other hand, Bofur and Nori shouting encouragement to Bilbo as he strained to reach the large Dwemer's meaty fist.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anaïs saw a dark figure swing down onto the cliff face. Dwalin's hand disappeared from beside her and she strained even harder to keep from joining Bilbo on the cliff's face. Thorin had swung down, pushing Bilbo up onto the ledge. Anaïs pulled the hobbit up, hearing yells of concern from the others as she pulled Bilbo practically into her lap. The small man collapsed into her, breathing heavily. She shifted uncomfortably, settling him down against the rock wall behind them as she stood. Thorin was swung back up, having apparently slipped after helping Bilbo. The hobbit gasped for air as he leaned against the wall, ashen and shaking – whether it was from the chill of the stinging rain or the terrifying thought of a falling death, Anaïs didn't know.

"I thought we'd lost our burglar," Dwalin said, a hint of a smile underneath his beard. Anaïs chuckled under her breath, patting Bilbo on the shoulder. She leaned in to speak into his ear, but Thorin's dark words stopped her in her tracks.

"He's been lost ever since he left home," he bit, glaring at the hobbit over his shoulder, his chest heaving from exertion. "He should never have come. He has no place amongst us." He turned, and Anaïs glared at his retreating back as he disappeared into a nearby crevice, calling for Dwalin over his shoulder. Anaïs stood, leaning down to help Bilbo up. She didn't say a word as she helped the hobbit into the small cave.

Maybe she should have.


	7. Chapter 6: Inhospitable Hosts

Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I started college in August and I thought I would have the time to write, but once I got into the semester, I had too much work to really write anything. But it's now the end of classes and I have time! Downside will be that I won't have internet from December 12-January 21st, so there will be no posted updates as far as I know. However, I promise to have a chapter ready when I get back to school!

Thank you for all the reviews in my absence as well as follows/favorites! It means so much to me that you guys are reading this. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was definitely difficult to write with writer's block.

As usual, I do not own anything of the Hobbit universe or the Skyrim universe except for Anais and her story.

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><p>"We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us," protested Balin as Anais laid out her bedroll along a smooth wall within the cave. Balin's voice was lowered as to not alarm the others, but her ears picked it up easily. Her ember eyes flashed to Balin and Thorin standing together as Thorin turned his head to Balin.<p>

"Plans change," he replied with a shrug. He moved away, calling over his shoulder for Bofur to take the first watch. Anais watched as Balin stared after Thorin, looking terribly worried. As Balin's eyes turned to her, she dropped her gaze. Since the incident at Rivendell, Thorin had ignored her while the others were merely curious of her. She could see their apprehension and their reluctance to trust her, but they hid it well behind warm jokes and easy gestures. Anais frowned as she smoothed the rough material of her bedroll, the faint scent of smoke and nirnroot floating through the air to tickle at her senses. Almost immediately, she could feel the cold fingers of homesickness pull at her heart and Anais nibbled at the inside of her cheek to keep the tears in check.

She had been in Middle-earth for nearly a year and a half. Skyrim had no less faded from her memory than if she had been gone only a day. Her heart yearned for the familiar plains of Whiterun, the snowy hills of Winterhold and Windhelm, and for the bustling streets of Solitude. But more importantly, she missed the easy way of life in Raven Rock that she had established for herself in the last year she had spent in Skyrim. She missed sassy old Neloth from Tel Mithryn who would come down into Raven Rock once a year or so for one reason or another. She missed shy young Drovas in the Retching Netch who always would listen to her stories. But most of all, she missed that sly mercenary Teldryn Sero who would always try to one-up her with every experience or story.

As the night wore down and the others began to settle down into sleep, Anais' thoughts were filled with nothing but home.

The hours slowly ticked by as the driving rain pounded on the mountainside, resonating within the tiny cave that the company had settled into for the night. Without a dying fire to keep them warm, the dwarves huddled closer together to maintain their warmth. Anais had allowed Bilbo to lean against her for the time being, but at some point in the night, she felt his warmth leave her. As her eyes flickered open slightly, the faint strains of a hushed conversation reached her ears.

"You can't turn back now, eh? You're part of the company. You're one of us," protested a familiar voice, which Anais recognized as Bofur. Her eyelids fluttered as she pretended to sleep. Who was he speaking to?

"I'm not, though, am I?" replied his companion, sounding weary and worn. Bilbo was leaving? "Thorin said I should never have come and he was right." Anais' heart sunk as she heard the hobbit sigh. He really had taken to heart the harsh words Thorin had spewed earlier. Silently she cursed at herself for not standing up for the young hobbit as he continued, "I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking… I should never have run out my door."

"You're homesick. I understand," Bofur answered, trying to soothe the silently distraught Bilbo. Anais opened her eyes slightly, catching the blank gaze of Thorin from across the room. Her brow furrowed in irritation as she kept herself from leaping across the small cave at their leader in fear of revealing herself as an eavesdropper.

"No, you don't!" protested Bilbo, his voice raising. "You don't understand. None of you do. You're Dwarves, you're used to this life… to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!" He hesitated. "Anais doesn't understand either, even if she tries to. You're all the same."

Anais stared at the wall ahead of her just above Thorin's head. She didn't understand yearning for home? Bilbo had been gone from home for only a few months. She had been gone for almost two years now. He had no clue of what homesickness was. She clenched her fists to her sides and turned her head to stare at the ceiling. She could hear Bilbo stumbling through an apology, but Bofur brushed it off.

"No, you're right," he replied. After a pause, his voice echoed through the cave and she could tell he was looking around at them. "We don't belong anywhere." When he spoke again, his voice was soft yet sincere and Anais' heart ached for the hurt that hid behind his words. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

Anais closed her eyes, slowing her breathing as she heard Bilbo turn to leave. Only when Bofur, alarm in his voice, asked Bilbo a question did her eyes shoot back open. "What's that?"

In the silence that followed, Anais could hear a sound almost like a snake or steam escaping from a boiling pot, only quieter. Following it was the creak of wooden beams, gentle and easy to miss. She sat up, ember eyes searching the ground for the source.

A crack, sand seeping through it to the unknown, was splitting the group in half, opening its maw wide as the company was startled awake. Before any of them could move, the ground swung downward, throwing each member of the company down into the abyss.

She must have hit her head somewhere on the way down, for when Anais opened her eyes, they were piled on top of each other in the midst of a rickety wooden structure built over a deep ravine. Anais had landed last, Bilbo landing just to her right. She looked below her, seeing the rest of the dwarves regaining their senses. She spun over, putting her hands and knees into Gloin. She looked around them at their surroundings, quickly taking it all in.

They were inside the mountain, no doubt in the clutches of some mountain dwelling peoples. Her thoughts went immediately to the draugr and Falmer of Skyrim's deepest reaches and she instinctively shuddered. Hopefully Middle Earth had less atrocious beings dwelling deep beneath her mountain ranges. Around them were torches set up every several feet, making up for the lack of natural light deep down in the earth. Wooden bridges and walkways clung to the walls of the mountain, held up by rickety ropes and beams.

Shrieks and wild calls from behind her alerted her to their visitors. She rolled to the side off of Gloin as Ori shouted, "Look out!" Anais barely had time to reach for her bow as her eyes connected with slimy little ugly creatures mobbing toward them only a few feet away. The creatures bowled the company over, flattening them beneath grabby fingers and disgusting little bodies. Anais used her fists as she punched the nearest one in the stomach, knocking it into the grabbing fray. There seemed to be little order among their captors as they punched, bit, scratched and bullied the dwarves, hobbit, and elf into standing positions and pushed them out of the trap that they had fallen into. Anais stood several heads taller than the little annoying creatures, but their grip was strong. She could feel one scratching at the back of her knee and another pulling at her elbow as she was forced along behind the others, who were proudly fighting back. However, it didn't seem to do much good for they were herded onto a rickety pathway like cattle. At least they were defiant, angry cattle.

They rounded a turn, several dwarves fighting their captors along the way. Anais turned her head to look for Bilbo, only to be met with the sight of the tail end of their troupe. She frantically thrashed at the creatures around her, raising her voice over the shrieks and loud screams of their captors. "Where's Bilbo?"

None answered her, each preoccupied with their own creature, who was keeping them unhappily distracted. Anais glanced behind her again, hoping the young hobbit had not been pushed off of the edge in all the confusion. Behind her, one of the creatures leaped on its companion's shoulders and grunted as he put a slimy fist into the side of her cheek. Anais stumbled, crying out at the surprising force the little creature had in its small fist. She felt a rough shove from behind and she forced herself to stay upright. She quickly reached up for her cowl's face cloth and hooked it back where it had been. Her ember eyes were reduced to only pinpricks, the shadow of Nocturnal shielding her face.

Inside, a soul roared in anger, shouting fire and death upon the creatures. Outside, Anais kept her posture straight, allowing herself to creep into anonymity. There would be time later to react. Right now, she needed to be calm.

They were herded down several bridges and pathways built across the ravine, one such pathway opening up into a larger cavern, crisscrossed with wooden bridges and torch-lit platforms. On one such platform several yards away sat a structure of some sort, one Anais couldn't make out. As the creatures pushed them along, she found herself beside Kili.

"What are these things?" she growled from beneath the cowl.

He spared her a brief glance, answering shortly. "Goblins," he replied under his breath as he beat back one of the goblins as it lunged at his midsection. Anais looked down at some of the creatures shoving against her knees, eyes drifting over the disgusting features. Nothing was that ugly in Skyrim.

They made their way up to the platform where the formation came to a jerking halt before a makeshift wooden throne, upon which sat a heaving, stinking sack of flesh that Anais could only assume was the goblins' leader. Grabbing hands swept her bow from her, feeling along her legs as far as the short creatures could reach and confiscating every dagger and weapon on her person. As she lunged for the one who carried her Nightingale bow toward the front of the crowd, another punched her square in the jaw. Kili caught her by the arm as she stumbled back, her hand going to her throbbing jaw through her cowl.

"They may be small, but damn, do they pack a strong punch," she muttered to the dwarf as he looked up at her, concern reflected in his large brown eyes. "I'll be fine. I have suffered far worse."

Before them, the large goblin heaved himself off of his makeshift throne, stomping several crouched tinier goblins into the woodwork beneath his feet. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" he bellowed, stringy spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"

Anais grinned slightly. _Two out of three. _

"Dwarves, Your Malevolence," barked a goblin from the front.

"Dwarves?" The fat one glanced from dwarf to dwarf, his eyes passing over her easily.

"We found them on the front porch."

"Well, don't just stand there," the fat one said, gesturing to the dwarves widely. "Search them!" The tiny goblins pushed and shoved their way through the tiny pack of dwarves, resuming their rough handling of the thirteen. Anais spotted the one who had punched her in the jaw earlier, and he gave her a sly smirk. She growled deep in her throat, feeling Kili's hand on her arm

"What are you doing in these parts?" she heard the Goblin King ask, his eyes darting around the pack of dwarves again. "Speak!" When his demand was met by silence, he scowled. "Very well. If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!" he bellowed to the expanse behind him, much to the amusement of the other goblins, who erupted into guttural cheers. "Bring up the mangler! Bring up the bonebreaker!" He turned back the dwarves, pointing his gnarled finger at Ori. "Start with the youngest."

"WAIT!" Thorin's yell silenced the entire cavern, all eyes turning toward the dwarf prince. Anais followed him with her eyes as he stepped toward the Goblin King, determination in each step.

"Well, well, well… look who it is." The Goblin King chuckled. "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror… King under the Mountain." He swept low in a mocking bow. "Oh, but I'm forgetting. You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king… which makes you… nobody, really." He snorted as his voice lowered, stepping toward Thorin. His bloodshot, filmy eyes looked the dwarf over as he continued, "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head… nothing attached." He laughed. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak - an old enemy of yours. A pale Orc astride a white Warg…"

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed." Thorin's voice sounded as if it came through gritted teeth. The Goblin King's mouth began to crinkle into a knowing smirk. "He was slain in battle long ago."

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" The King asked as he chuckled again. He turned to a tiny goblin sitting in a wood and cloth swing attached to a long rope strung across the expanse of the cavern. "Send word to the pale Orc," he ordered. "Tell him I have found his prize."


End file.
